


I Will Follow You Into the Dark

by SummerRoses



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec died, BAMF!Alec, Bamf!Magnus, Daddy!Alec, M/M, Papa!Magnus, Protective!Magnus, Resurrection, There are sad moments, There will be sex, but he's back!, but it ends with a happily ever after, immortal!alec, malec kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-12-22 11:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11966490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerRoses/pseuds/SummerRoses
Summary: Alec Lightwood died ten years ago, so the last thing Rafael Lightwood-Bane expects when the institute's floor shakes and lights flicker is to find the unconscious body of his dad on the ground. Alec is the same man as he was before he died, other than now being in his twenty-year-old body, and it leaves the Shadowhunters confused. How is Alec Lightwood back from the dead? How will his love ones react? Is there a time limit for Alec's return?Magnus Bane doesn't think he can bear to lose his husband for a second time.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a little trouble with my tense. So please forgive me if past tense slipped into the story! lol. I hope you enjoy. I love kudos and comments. ;)

Rafael Lightwood-Bane doesn’t know what to expect when the institute around them rumbles, the ground trembling beneath their feet. An earthquake, he supposes, but it’s different and he can feel the magic sizzle in his bones. He’s no warlock like his brother or pa, but he senses magic because he’s so used to being around it.

The lights in the institute flicker and the Shadowhunters scramble to grab their weapons. Lights flickering can only mean a demon presence and they’ve been trained to be ready for anything—even a courageous demon who thinks it’s a good idea to invade the New York Institute. As the head of the institute, Rafael raises his hand to calm his soldiers as he takes careful steps forward, his gaze alert to his surroundings. The lights flicker again and this time they completely shut off for a short moment, before they come back on again.

This time, the darkness leaves behind a gift for them. A man, clothed in black, is lying on the floor near one of the monitors. Rafael can’t get a good look at him because his back is to them, but he doesn’t move. Unconscious, Rafael assumes.

With his hand still raised, he moves closer until he can reach the man. The man’s shirt sleeves are rolled up, so Rafe catches a good look at his arms. Runes mark his skin, but they appear withered, barely visible, like they haven’t been drawn over in some time. Finally, Rafe grabs his shoulder and rolls him over so the stranger lays on his back. Rafael gasps at the face presented to him.

Lying on the ground, as young as a twenty-year old, is Alec Gideon Lightwood, former head of the New York Institute, and his dad, who died ten years ago.

Rafe fights to breathe, his chest constricting. “Dad?”

But Alec doesn’t move. His eyes are shut tightly, but his chest rises and falls, as though he’s sleeping. But he’s alive, that much Rafe can tell.

“Rafe?” Amberlin steps up behind him and gasps. “Is that…?”

“It’s Dad,” Rafe answers. He starts to reach toward his father, but then stops. 

This can’t be real, can it? His dad died in a demon attack that left Rafe’s Aunt Isabelle permeantly injured and his Uncle Jace an emotional wreck. The demon went for Jace when Alec darted in front of his brother, taking the brunt of the attack. Not even Magnus Bane could save Alec’s life and with Alec’s death, he took a piece of everyone he left behind. They were never the same, especially not Rafe’s Pa.

“How is this possible?” Amberlin asks. Rafe just shakes his head. He doesn’t know what else to say. His dad was here, chest heaving with breath, and Rafe was completely clueless on what to do next. “Maybe we should call your pa?”

“No!” Rafe says it so quickly that he surprises himself. He turns to his girlfriend and lets out a languid breath he didn’t know he was holding. The Shadowhunters are staring at him, waiting for him to decide something. He’s lost.

Amberlin sighs and steps around him. Her high heels click on the floor, a resounding echo in the quiet room, until she stops in front of his dad and crouches. She touches Alec’s cheek, softly. “He’s warm.”

It happens so quickly that no one can react. Before Rafe can yell a warning, Amberlin is on her knees, Alec’s arm wrapped under her chin in a headlock. His eyes are wild, staring hard around the room as his chest heaves in unfounded exhaustion. Like he’s ran a mile rather than just been sleeping. He grabs Amberlin’s seraph blade out of her thigh holster and calls on Raziel’s name, lighting it up. 

“Dad, no!” Rafe yells as he steps closer. He raises his hands, showing Alec his palms.

Alec’s gaze swings to Rafe and it gives him pause. His grip loosens around the blade. “Rafe?”

Rafe doesn’t expect the tears that fill his eyes and he wipes at them angrily. He’s learned to be strong, for his pa, for Max, and now here he is, crying like he’s a child again. Like Alec will once again wrap him in his arms and tell him that everything will be alright.

“Rafe?” Alec says again. 

He’s just as Rafe remembers, for the most part. His dad is young, as young as he was when Rafe was barely a child. There are no laughter lines marring his skin or the scars that demons left behind. Rafe remembers when he was thirteen and Alec came home bloodied and sore. His pa tried everything to heal Alec, but some of the scars were left behind on his neck and jaw. That night, Rafe had cuddled up with his dad and traced his finger along the one particular scar that ran from his chin to his right ear. It was thin, but prominent, and it scared a thirteen-year-old Rafe. It reminded him that being a Shadowhunter was dangerous and he didn’t want to lose his best friend—his dad. But he had—five years later. But this Alec didn’t have those scars.

“Dad…” Rafe reaches Alec just as his dad releases Amberlin from his hold. She gasps and crawls away from them. Rafe watches her, makes sure she’s okay, and when she nods at him, he returns his attention to Alec. “Dad, is that really you?”

Alec glances around the room, at the Shadowhunters who are watching in shock. They all know who Alec Lightwood is. He’s a legend, a hero in the eyes of the hunters who protect Downworlders. His alliance between the Shadowhunters and Downworlders brought peace to the world.

When his stare finally returns to Rafe, he shakes his head. “I don’t…what happened?”

“What do you remember last?” Rafe rests his hand on Alec’s shoulder and he tries not to cry again because he can feel his dad beneath his palm. His very alive dad. 

“Going on a hunt. In Brooklyn, near your pa’s old apartment.” Then he stares hard at Rafe. “You’re older. You were only eighteen then.”

Rafe chuckles, but it’s hollow and sad. “Yeah. I was. You...” He inhales sharply and tries to think of something to say to Alec. “You died that day. A horde of demons attacked and one went for Aunty Izzy—”

“I remember.” Alec nods. “I couldn’t get an arrow loose quick enough so I jumped in front of Izzy. I was just trying to get her out of the way.”

Rafe nods. “You did. But it stabbed you instead. Your injuries were too severe. Pa couldn’t save you.”

He remembers that day well. Pa brought both he and Max along and left them outside the infirmary doors. He begged them to stay there as he went inside to work on Alec. They heard the yelling, the crying, and when they burst through the doors to see what was happening, they found their pa wrapped around their dad’s still, pale body. Catarina had tried pulling Magnus away from Alec, but he wouldn’t have it. He wept as he slipped into bed beside his husband, resting Alec’s head on his chest. He begged Alec to come back, over and over, as Catarina swept the teenagers out of the room.

They pretended that they hadn’t seen their pa break down. When he walked out the door, as composed as he walked in, and told them their dad had passed away, they pretended they hadn’t seen any of that. They just wrapped themselves around their pa and grieved as a family.

Alec peers around again. “How am I here?”

“I don’t know,” Rafe says. He shakes his head as a tear betrays him and slips down his cheek. “I don’t know.”

“Mr. Lightwood.” Amberlin has straightened her clothes and she looks professional, as though Alec hadn’t just had her in a headlock. She’s the second in charge of the institute and knows how to act like a diplomat. “As you can respect, we have a lot of questions. You died ten years ago.”

“It was ten years ago?” Alec wheezes and grabs his chest.

Rafe lurches forward, grabbing his dad before he can collapse. He holds Alec up. “Dad…”

“Magnus? And Max?”

Rafe smiles. It was only a matter of time before his dad asked about them. “Max is fine. He gets paid to do little jobs here and there. Much like Pa. He’s found himself a nice guy. A vampire named Christian, who works alongside Lily Chen. You remember Lily, right?”

Alec nods, but doesn’t say anything else. He’s leaning on Rafe, letting Rafe take his weight.

“And Pa…” The smile fades from his face. “He’s not great. He misses you every day. He’s…” Rafe knows he needs to warn his dad, because Alec will see Magnus again soon. “He’s not the same person, Dad. Your loss killed a part of him.”

Alec nods then and forces himself to stand. His legs shake a little, but Rafe has a hold on him. “I need to see him.”

“Absolutely not,” Amberlin says.

Rafe throws her a surprised look.

She smiles sadly. “Rafe, we don’t know how this happened. We can’t let a dead man walk around the streets of New York. How do we know this isn’t a demonic possession?”

Alec glares at her and pushes Rafe’s hold off him. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. I’m going to see Magnus.” He takes a step forward, but his body betrays him and his legs give out beneath him. Rafe can’t grab him before he collapses on the ground.

His words remind Rafe that Alec really doesn’t know who Amberlin is. He’s never met her before.

Rafe wraps his hand around Alec’s arm and helps him stand again. “Dad, this is Amberlin. My girlfriend.”

Alec frowns at him, before his attention turns on Amberlin. She smiles at him, almost nervously, but it fades when Alec’s lips twist in annoyance. “I don’t care who she is. I want to see Magnus.”

Rafe isn’t exactly shocked. His dad always takes a while to warm up to new people, but Amberlin is clearly hurt. Her eyes deceive her, even as she stands straighter. Rafe knows that stance. She’s about to take Alec on, and she’ll lose. If there is anyone more stubborn than his girlfriend, it’s his dad.

He holds up a hand, stopping her from arguing. “Dad, we’ll call Pa here, okay? But you need rest. Something weird is happening. You turned up out of nowhere and you look like you’re in your early twenties again, but you have the memories of just before you died. It doesn’t make sense.”

Alec’s forehead creases in confusion and he raises his hand to stare at it. “I look young again?”

Rafe nods. “Yes, you do. Now, I’m going to get you settled in the infirmary. We’ll need to check your health and while that’s happening, I’ll call Pa. I’ll tell him everything. I promise. You’ll see him again.”

Alec nods in return. He accepts Rafe’s conditions and Rafe helps him walk toward the infirmary. The Shadowhunters start to whisper as they make their way through the crowd and down the hallway.

♥♠♥

Magnus isn’t having a good day. He’s dealt with a stringent wolf that wouldn’t pay him what he was owed and a fairy that couldn’t accept that he didn’t deal in love potions. All he wants to do is have a strong drink and relax for the afternoon and night.

He knows he could make it with magic, but there is nothing better than a drink made with his own two hands. He learned that off Alexander. Alec was strict on what he allowed Magnus to do with magic. Not that Magnus minded much. There was something sexy about seeing his husband make a drink for him. It was made with love and Magnus enjoyed the alcohol so much more because of it.

Except his drinks hadn’t been made with love for ten years now. Well, it was ten years in a week’s time. The reminder that the anniversary of Alec’s death was coming up puts a bigger damper on his mood and he swallows the alcohol in one big swig, then makes another one. He considers doing the same with this drink, but sighs and sashays his way over to his sofa. He falls into it.

“A drink to you, Alexander, my darling, my love,” he says as he raises his glass upwards and take a small sip.

His phone buzzes and it makes him pause. Magnus knows he can ignore it, but it could be one of his kids. And as he stands and makes his way to the bar where his phone sits, he realizes he’s right. It’s Rafael.

He smiles when he accepts the call. “Hello, baby boy.”

He can almost see the roll of Rafe’s eyes. “Pa, what did I tell you about calling me that? Max is the baby in the family.”

Magnus twirls his hand even though he knows his son can’t see it. “Semantics. What can I do for you on this fine afternoon?”

“Pa, I need to talk to you.”

There’s hesitation in his voice and it makes Magnus stiffen. Rafael hasn’t been this hesitant since he was eleven and had a wet dream for the first time. He was embarrassed and crying, and Magnus and Alec hugged him and told him it was fine. Nothing to be embarrassed about because it was normal. They’d taught him to be confident in everything he did and Rafe had never forgotten his lesson. Until now. Now he was hesitant and it put Magnus on edge. 

“What happened? Is your brother okay?” Magnus dropped his glass on the bar and held his breath.

“What? Oh, yes, Max is fine. He’s in Europe with Christian.”

“Yes, I know. I feared something had happened to him. Are you okay?”

Rafe hummed a little. “Pa, something happened. I can’t explain it. We’re still trying to work out what’s happening.”

“Just tell me, Rafe. I can help you fix it.”

“I don’t think you’d want to fix it.” Rafe exhaled loudly. “Pa, did you feel a tremor today? Like an earthquake?”

“No. Should I have?” Magnus frowned and glanced around the room. Everything was straight and just as he’d left it when he’d gone to his first appointment of the day.

“The ground shook here, and the lights flickered. They went out for just a moment, Pa, and when they came back on…” Rafe groaned. “I don’t know how to say this. But Pa, Dad’s here. He’s alive. He was unconscious on the ground when the lights came back on and he’s here, now.”

Magnus felt the air immobilize around him. His chest seized as soon as Rafe had said ‘Dad’s here’ and it took him a few moments to will himself to take a deep breath, to somehow push air into his lungs. He shook his head. It hurt, deeply, at even the mention of Alec. Was this a joke? He didn’t know. Rafe would never have been that cruel. “Rafe, are you drunk?” 

“Pa, I’m serious. Dad’s here. Alive. He looks like he’s twenty, but he’s here, in the infirmary and he wants to see you.” Rafe’s sharp breaths echoed through the phone line. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pa. I would never. Not about Dad.”

He’s in a dream. He was sure of it. “Rafe…”

“Pa, trust me. Please. Come to the institute. Now.”

“Okay, I’ll be there very soon.” He doesn’t give Rafe time to say goodbye before he disconnects the call and stares at his phone. Alec. Alexander. The love of his life. He can barely breathe again and he must force himself to. He makes himself another drink and drinks it in one mouthful. Then, he opens a portal and makes his way to the institute.

♥♠♥

Rafe and Amberlin are waiting for him by Rafe’s office. Magnus hugs his son’s girlfriend and kisses her softly on the cheek.

Rafe watches him, carefully, and nods at his pa and gives him a quick hug. “Are you okay?”

Magnus smiles, but he knows it doesn’t quite reach its peak. He’s exhausted and now emotionally compromised, so no, he’s not okay. But he nods, even though he knows Rafe won’t believe it.

“Pa, this is real.”

Magnus waves his hand. “It’s probably a demon, Rafe, playing tricks on you.” It hurts to even think that is the answer to this situation, and he’ll make the demon burn for its deception. 

Rafe shakes his head. “It’s not. It’s Dad. He knows things only Dad could.” He wraps his hand around Magnus’s arm and leads him toward the infirmary. “Pa, I don’t know how this happened. I can’t explain it. We’ve done a health check on him and other than exhaustion and dehydration, he’s fine.”

Magnus doesn’t want to hope. Hope is for the weak. He’s mourned Alexander for ten years and he doesn’t think he can hope. This is a trick, it must be. But again, he nods, mostly for Rafe’s sake.

“I haven’t called anyone else yet. Just you. Uncle Jace and Aunt Isabelle don’t know yet.”

“It’s best to keep this quiet, until we figure out what this is. It’ll hurt your uncle and aunt too deeply for them to recover,” Magnus says, patting Rafe’s hand.

“And what about you?” Amberlin asks from his other side. She’s a smart girl—ambitious and observant—and she reminds him of Alec is some ways.

“I’ll be fine.” It’s not a good lie, but he’s used that line for the last ten years. He wasn’t going to give it up.

They reach the infirmary doors and Rafe releases his hold on Magnus and throws them open. Magnus doesn’t hesitate as he glides into the room with a fake confidence. As soon as he sees Alec though, he falters. It’s so real that he can’t see a flicker in the glamour.

Alec is talking to a medic and he stops as soon as he sees Magnus. He smiles and it’s brilliant and it’s _so_ Alec. No demon could smile like Alec could, Magnus was sure that was something it couldn’t fake.

Alexander stands, but his legs falter beneath him and Magnus rushes over to grab him before he can fall. Their faces are inches apart and Magnus stares into the azure irises that he’d missed for ten years. Again, they are real, _too_ real and Magnus rasps in shock. He’s so young, as though he was once again twenty-years-old, rather than the forty-five-year-old version of himself that died ten years ago. 

“Magnus,” Alec whispers as he reaches out to cup Magnus’s jaw. He grins. “Hi.”

The tears build behind Magnus’s eyelids as he shuts his eyes tightly. When he opens them again, the tears fall freely down his cheeks and over his chin. “Alexander.”

“It’s me. I swear on the angel. It’s me.” Alec rests his forehead against Magnus’s own as he curls his hand around the back of Magnus’s neck. He stares deeply into his eyes.

“I know. I don’t know how, but I know.” And then Magnus smiles his first real smile in ten years. “Alexander.” The name wraps around his tongue with warmth and he can’t help but laugh through his tears. “Oh, Alexander.”

Magnus hears a sniffle behind them, but he doesn’t glance back. He assumes it’s Amberlin, or maybe even Rafe, but he can’t take his eyes off his husband. His very alive husband. 

“You came back to me,” Magnus whispers as his hands clutch Alec’s upper arms urgently. He can’t let go because he doesn’t want Alec disappearing on him.

“We always find our way back to each other,” Alec says and then he kisses Magnus.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and Magnus’s insides erupt in a range of complex, but forgotten feelings. It’s excitement, and love, and grief, and relief, mixed into one big jumbled heap of emotions. He clings to Alec desperately and returns the kiss with as much of those feelings as he could. He wanted his husband to see how much he missed him, how much he grieved him.

Behind them, the medic clears his throat and as Alec breaks the kiss, Magnus glares at the medic.

“I am sorry to interrupt, but I have some results back.”

Rafe quickly steps closer to them and holds out his hand. The medic passes him the report. “Talk to me, Bowland.”

Magnus holds his breath, waiting for the medic to ruin it all. Tell him that Alec isn’t real. That he isn’t here like they all think he is.

“It seems Mr. Lightwood is as healthy as a man in his early twenties. Other than exhaustion and dehydration, as I’ve already told you, Sir.” He talks directly to Rafe, but his gaze flickers back to Alec and Magnus. “However, there is some dissimilarities in his blood work from his old medical reports.”

Alec clings to Magnus, his arms wrapped around his husband’s waist. “Like what?”

Bowland clears his throat nervously and glances at Rafe. They all turn their attention to him.

He is still reading the report, before finally, he glances up at them with wide eyes. “Dad…you’re immortal.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yin Fen as in terms of the books: Yin fen, sometimes referred to as silver powder, is a highly addictive warlock drug and demonic poison, concocted and purchased in warlock dens. It is found mostly in the form of a powder and can either be dissolved in water or inhaled.

_“Dad…you’re immortal.”_

“What?” Alec and Magnus say it at the same time, both as shocked as each other.

Rafe looks confused and he passes the report to Magnus, who helps Alec sit back on the bed before snatching it up quickly. Magnus’s gaze follows the line of words, making sense of the bloodwork results until he comes to the important part. Alec’s aging, or lack thereof.

“What does it say?” Alec asks, eyes wide as he stares at Magnus.

“Your cells are acting normal, dividing like normal, but they aren’t dying like they should.” Magnus raised his stare to his husband. “If anything, they are multiplying and staying strong.”

“What does that mean?” Alec asks again.

“You’re immortal, Dad.” Rafe repeats. He grins at Alec and grips his shoulder. “You get to live forever, with Pa and Max.”

“You’re not immortal though,” Alec points out sadly and the room falls eerily quiet. 

Sometimes, Magnus likes to forget that one of his sons will die long before him. Before Alec’s death, his focus was waiting for that time when he’d lose his husband, because Rafe was young and had plenty of time ahead of him. He never had to think about Rafe’s death, and neither did Alec. But now the reality was hitting his husband. If he was immortal, he’d have to watch their eldest son die, he’d have to watch his brother and sister die too.

Rafe nods. “I’m not immortal, no.” He smiles though, because Alec and Magnus taught him well. “But I don’t need to be.” He takes Amberlin’s hand in his own. “I have Amber. And I love my life. And it’s only just getting started.”

Alec frowns at him—frowns at Amberlin and Rafe’s hands—but nods anyway. He turns to the medic. “Why can’t I stand for very long?”

“You’re exhausted, Mr. Lightwood. Your body is trying to recuperate your energy. No doubt, coming back from the dead drained it.” Bowland takes the report off Magnus and slips it under his armpit. 

“Are you assuming that Alexander brought himself back?” Magnus questions as he sits himself beside Alec again and entwines their fingers. 

“It really is too early to tell. I am a medic, Mr. Bane.” Bowland sighs. “However, I can deduct certain peculiarities through Mr. Lightwood’s medical.”

“Like what?” Rafe’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I was going to approach the topic privately, Sir, seeing as this is Shadowhunter business.” Bowland glances almost suspiciously at Alec and Magnus.

“Shadowhunter business?” Alec attempts to stand, but Magnus grips his hand tighter, keeping him still. “I _am_ a Shadowhunter. I may have been dead, but I’m a Shadowhunter none the less.”

“Not to mention that it involves Alexander. If you have a theory on how he came back to life, he and I both deserve to know,” Magnus says. His glamour falls and he stares the medic down through his yellow slit eyes. He isn’t aiming for threatening, but he doesn’t particularly feel like being nice either. He can feel Alec’s hurt from being treated like a threat and in turn, Magnus is angry for him. Alec had given his whole life to the Shadowhunters and he deserved to be treated like the hero he is.

Rafe nods. “I agree with my parents. You will speak freely in front of them, Bowland.”

Bowland doesn’t seem to agree, but he speaks anyway. “Magic exists inside of Mr. Lightwood. Not in the usual sense. He’s not a warlock, but he has existing remains of magic in his body. But it’s different, peculiar, because it’s not warlock magic. It’s much stronger.”

“Darker?” Amberlin asks and Alec scowls at her.

“No, not necessarily. But the level of darkness involved in this magic could be unidentifiable. It’s strong magic, much stronger than any warlock could hold.” Bowland shrugs.

Magnus’s thumb caresses the back of Alec’s hand for short moment before he rises. “Have you had a warlock identify the magic?”

Bowland shakes his head. “It’s a working theory.”

Magnus waves him off impatiently and turns to his husband. Alec stares up at him, trust and love visible in the gaze. He smiles at Magnus and nods his head, and Magnus feels his chest constrict again. His husband. The love of his life. Alive. It still feels like a dream and he promises to whoever is listening that if this is fake, he’ll cause havoc on the world and the people who did this. But if it’s not and someone brought back his husband for him, for them, he’ll find that person and offer his lifelong warlock services, for free.

Magnus’s hands begin a familiar dance, blue flames of magic twirling around his fingers, caressing them like a lover. His magic flitters its way to Alec’s body and runs along it, feeling and touching him. His husband closes his eyes and inhales sharply and they both just _feel_. Through his magic, Magnus can feel a lot about his resurrected husband. He can feel the renewed vitality humming through Alec’s bloodstream, the thrumming of Alec’s heart—strong and healthy—in his chest, and then the magic, soft and barely perceptible, but with a touch of love and desire. There isn’t anything malevolent about it, but it leaves questions that need to be answered.

Finally, Magnus pulls back.

“Well?” Rafe touches Magnus’s arm gently. “Did you feel anything?”

He nods. “It’s there, but barely. Whoever did this, had no wicked intentions. They did it out of love.” _And desire_. He doesn’t want to think about that part. Whoever did this to Alec, the one who brought him back from the dead, loves him and desires him and that leaves Magnus jealous and suspicious. Alec isn’t a hard person to love, but he’s always been Magnus’s. And yet, this person had the strength to bring Alec back, while Magnus merely grieved in the private safety of his home. What did this say about Magnus’s loyalty to Alec?

Rafe lets out a breath of relief and he grins widely. “That’s brilliant. Can you tell who it is?”

“No.” Magnus sighs and cups Alec’s jaw. He lays a tender kiss on his husband’s lips. “You’re really here.”

“And I won’t leave you again, I promise.”

“Don’t promise what you can’t uphold, Alexander. You may be immortal, but you can still be killed.” Magnus inhales quietly at the thought. It hurts to think about it, but he tries to ignore the feeling. Even though Alec was here, his face in Magnus’s hands, it feels too right, too perfect, and that scares him because he knows how easily he can lose Alec. 

“Can we go home?” Alec asks, and he stares over Magnus’s shoulder at their son. “I’d really like to go home.”

Amberlin shakes her head. “That’s impossible. We still don’t know what’s going on and you were dead. We can’t have a dead man walking around New York City!”

“I could portal us home,” Magnus replies. He doesn’t bother looking at her as he caresses the smooth skin of Alec’s chin with his thumb. He knows she’s only trying to follow the rules, but he doesn’t care. He wants Alexander home too. “No one will have to see him.”

“Magnus—”

Rafe cuts her off. “Amberlin, it’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. Pa will look after him.”

“And he can come back for any sort of testing needed,” Magnus insists, although he doesn’t like the thought of Alec being a guinea pig.

Amberlin gives in far too easily with a simple, “okay.” And as Magnus glances around, he can see why. Rafe is staring at her with his big puppy dog eyes, the ones that Alec taught him when he was only a child. It makes Magnus grin.

Amberlin’s gaze breaks away from Rafe’s and she points at them. “But he has to come back when we need him.”

Alec nods and he attempts to stand again. Magnus is there to catch him if he needs him to, but he doesn’t. Not this time. While he wobbles a bit on his feet, he steadies himself. “Of course. And if you need someone for a mission—”

“No!” Magnus and Rafe yell it at the same time. It surprises Alec and Amberlin.

“Absolutely not,” Magnus snaps. He stands too and grips Alec’s arm. “You’ve done your duty. You _died_ doing your duty. The Clave have taken enough from you. From us.”

Rafe nods furiously. “I agree with Pa. No missions. Just relax, Dad. You came back from the dead.”

Alec opens his mouth, but it quickly clicks shut. He nods in agreement, but there is defiance in his eyes. Magnus knows that look too well and he can feel his heart break. He can’t imagine Alec going back out there to fight demons. It’s too much, too soon. He can’t lose him again. But he doesn’t argue. Not today.

With a nod to Amberlin and Rafe, Magnus leads Alec out of the infirmary. Not before Rafe touches Alec’s arm again though, as though he needs reassurance that Alec is still there, with them. Alec smiles at Rafe as he and Magnus exits.

“He’s grown up,” Alec says sadly. 

Magnus hums in miserable agreement. He doesn’t like to think about how old Rafe is getting, but he can’t imagine how Alec must be feeling. Rafe was only eighteen when Alec died. “He’s so much like you. Such a great leader.”

Alec smiles then, proudly. “The head of the institute. That’s amazing.”

Magnus laughs. “He always wanted to go to work with you. I knew he’d follow in your footsteps.”

They walk down a long hallway of the institute. It hasn’t changed much since Alec’s death, so Magnus knows he probably feels calmer here. Like he hadn’t died ten years ago. And it shows in the way Alec visibly relaxes, his shoulders dropping casually.

“Yeah. I’m glad he chose to be a Shadowhunter.”

“I’m not,” Magnus teases, and Alec laughs. 

It was always their go-to teasing arguments about Rafe. Alec had always wanted him to be a Shadowhunter, even though he made sure no one pushed the decision on Rafe, whereas Magnus preferred him to do something else, something Mundane even. Shadowhunting was too dangerous for his children and when Rafe chose to uphold his heritage, Magnus might have been a little upset, but never disappointed.

“He has a beard,” Alec comments. 

It’s not very bushy, just a five o’clock shadow with a little fluff, but Rafe let it grow slightly after Alec’s death. He wanted to look more grown up, and he took on the role of family protector very quickly, even though he hadn’t needed it.

“Yes, he does,” Magnus whispers as they head further down the hallway. They are walking slowly, almost to the point they were nearly stopping. But they didn’t stop, they kept walking.

“And Max has a boyfriend?”

Magnus smiles when he thinks about the vampire. “Christian. He saved Max after you died.”

Alec does stop then and Magnus pauses with him. He stares at Magnus with sorrowful eyes. “How?”

Magnus doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to start with the heavily emotional information, but he knows Alec won’t let it go. “Max didn’t take your death very well. He began drinking and partying. He became addicted to yin fen and I barely recognized him anymore. Rafe and I tried to help him, but he lashed out. He’d disappear for weeks at a time.”

Magnus gently nudges Alec into a slow walking pace again. He entwines their fingers and grips Alec’s hand tightly. “We asked for help. From Luke. From Lily and Maia. But no one could find him, and if they did, he’d run again. I thought I’d lost our son, Alexander.” He blinks quickly to stop himself from tearing up.

Alec is holding his breath and a lone tear slips down his cheek. Alec doesn’t cry very often and whenever he does—did—Magnus would hold him and fix whatever ailed him. But today is different. Magnus can’t fix the past.

“Three months later, Max came home with a vampire. Christian. He found Max on the Brooklyn Bridge, staring down at the water.”

“What?” Alec’s gasp is quick and shallow.

“He saved him. Healed him. Our old Max was back. I don’t know how he did it, but he did and we owed Christian the world. All he wanted in return was our blessing to date Max. And we gave it. Now Christian and Max have been dating for nearly nine and a half years and they are happy. _So_ happy.”

Alec licks his lips nervously. “Will me being back affect him? Maybe I should—”

“No,” Magnus cuts him off swiftly. “Max will love to see you. He needs to see you, Alexander, because you’re back to stay.”

Alec nods and they continue to walk in silence. Before they exit the church, Magnus takes note of the curious Shadowhunter gazes that follow them. One Shadowhunter steps forward and Magnus shakes his head at her. Alec is too tired, too exhausted, to deal with hero worship. 

As soon as they exit, Magnus lets go of Alec’s hand and waves his hands in the air, gold magic blossoming out of his hands and creating a portal. He could have made it in the institute, of course, but they both needed the walk, the familiarity of the halls of the institute.

Alec takes a deep breath of fresh air, his chest inhaling and exhaling, before he takes Magnus’s hand and they walk through the portal.

♥♠♥

The loft is a mess. It’s the first thing Magnus notices when they enter and he wheezes in embarrassment. It’s been a long time since the boys moved out and Magnus had let his sorrow take over. There are takeaway cardboard boxes scattered around the lounge room, and the sofa is askew. His books, and Alec’s books, are scattered across the floor, along with a few empty tumblers that Magnus uses for his alcohol.

Alec’s gaze roams across the family room just as Magnus waves his hands, magicking the mess away. Magnus laughs to fight off the embarrassment and saunters into the room. “I had a party last night,” he reasons, but he can tell that Alec sees through the lie. Those sad puppy dog eyes stare at him. 

“Magnus?”

Magnus waves his hands and falls on the sofa. He pats the spot beside him. “Come, Alexander. Sit with me.”

Alec hesitates and that causes a twinge of hurt in his heart, but then Alec rests beside him, snuggling into Magnus’s outstretched arm. His head rests on Magnus’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Sorrow wedges itself in Magnus’s throat. “Don’t be. I told you, I had a party.”

“Magnus…” He sounds defeated, and tired. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. “I missed your smell. It smells like home.”

Magnus bites his lip and clenches his eyes close. Home. Yes, that’s what Alec felt like against him. But in terms of Magnus’s smell, he doesn’t understand. He hadn’t showered in two days and he knows he probably smells. 

“I stink,” Magnus teases.

“No, you don’t. You smell like you.” Alec’s lips touch his neck softly. “You smell like home.”

Magnus exhales quietly. “How is this possible?” he whispers, mostly to himself, but Alec hears him.

“I don’t know, but I won’t question it. I’m back here, with you.”

“Do you remember anything about the afterlife?” Magnus asks. He’s not sure if he wants to know.

Alec stiffens in his arms.

“Alec? You don’t have to talk about it—”

“Bits and pieces of it. I remember feeling lost. Alone. But content at the same time. But the content wasn’t right, wasn’t real. It felt fake, like I was forced to feel satisfied when I wasn’t.” Alec’s breathing deepens. “It’s like flashbacks. I see people’s faces. People I don’t know, at least not now. But I knew them when I was there.”

“Oh Alexander.” Magnus tightens his hold on his husband and they revel in the warmth of the other. Alec is dozing within minutes, but Magnus doesn’t let him go. He can’t. He’s afraid that he’ll lose him again. That maybe if he falls asleep, he’ll wake to find Alec wasn’t real in the first place.

A sharp, loud knock on the door makes them both jump. Alec shouts in disorientated shock, but Magnus rubs his arm in comfort. “You’re okay. You’re here. It’s just the door.”

Alec sighs in relief and Magnus unwittingly lets him go. He could ignore it, but he doesn’t. Who knows who could be on the other side?

When he opens the door just wide enough to see who was outside, he pauses in surprise. Jace, Clary, Izzy and Simon are standing there, looking fearfully around the hallway.

“Why aren’t you in Alicante?” That’s where they lived and neither of the couples visited Brooklyn that often. Not since Alec’s death.

“Magnus!” Jace says breathlessly. “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Magnus hears Alec rise from the sofa, but he raises his hand to stop him. He’s glad he didn’t open the door fully.

Jace shoves his shirt up, displaying his _Parabatai_ rune to all four of them. “It’s back. My rune is back. That’s impossible, unless…unless Alec was back.”

Alec clearly didn’t listen to Magnus, because he pushes his husband out of the way and stands in the doorway, faced with his stunned siblings and their partners.

He smiles. “Hi, Jace.”

Magnus sighs. It was selfish, but he didn’t want to share Alec with his siblings. Not yet. But now he has no choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are love! <3 I will get around to replying to your comments! I promise! I'm just really busy at the moment. Between work, having a very painful leg, catching the flu and having my unit flooded with water from my washing machine, I haven't had much luck with time! xoxo.
> 
> Also, if you have prompts for one-shots for me, or you just want to check out sneak peaks of future chapters, check out my tumblr: https://summerrosesfic.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter Three

Jace stares and Magnus can’t blame him. It’s no surprise to anyone that Izzy moves first and she throws herself at Alec, who already has his arms open to catch her. She chants his name as she buries her face in his neck, her grip on him tight. Magnus watches as Alec closes his eyes, breathes in his sister’s scent, and just relishes in her comfort like a man starved of touch. 

It’s odd seeing them together, Izzy’s forty-three-year-old body a sharp contrast against Alec’s twenty-year-old one. She has age lines and parts of her skin is beginning to become leathery, a deep reminder of her body’s betrayal. She’s beautiful, none the less, but there are more reminders than not of her age and history, including a knee brace that is now a permanent accessory to any outfit.

Jace swallows and drops his shirt, then he’s pushing forward, throwing himself at Alec and joining in on the hug. He’s not as clingy as Izzy is, but still, he cups Alec’s face between his hands with wide eyes and he’s just _feeling_ the warmth of Alec’s skin, as though trying to decide if this is real or not.

“Alec?” Jace’s voice breaks. “How…?”

Alec smiles softly and he wraps the arm not holding Izzy around his _parabatai_ and drags Jace against him. It’s a beautiful sight to see and Magnus can’t help the sad smile from slipping on his lips. A family reunited. 

Clary and Simon are keeping their distance from the family, but Clary still decides to edge her way toward Magnus.

“How did this happen?” She whispers to him, but it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.

The siblings break apart and Jace jerks his head toward Magnus. “Did you do this, Magnus? Did you bring him back?” That’s not the real question in his eyes. He wants to know why Magnus didn’t do it sooner. He wants to know why Magnus made them live ten years without Alec.

Alec squeezes Jace’s arm. “He didn’t. We don’t know how it happened. I woke up at the institute.”

“Rafa said there was an earthquake at the institute. The lights went off for a second and by the time it came back on, Alec’s unconscious body was lying on the ground in the ops room.”

They are watching him with wide eyes and it’s Clary who speaks next. “Do they have any idea how this happened?” She glances at Alec and they both move at the same time. Alec has his arms wrapped around her body and hers snake around his neck for a brief, but loving hug. They were good friends before he died, _are_ good friends, and his death broke Clary as much as anyone else. “And why do you look so young?”

Again, there is the contrast between the four of them and Alec. Clary’s auburn hair has dulled over the years, with streaks of grey entwined with the other strands, and she looks tired. Being a Shadowhunter helps little with the aging process and even though they all look great for being in their forties, the telling signs of age mock them. 

Magnus can see that it’s Jace’s appearance that shocks Alec the most though, because Alec can’t keep his gloomy gaze off his brother. Jace’s body is littered with thin scars that were once runes, but that’s normal. It’s the scar tissue on his neck that seems to have caught Alec’s attention and he stares miserably at it. It’s a burn scar, one that neither Magnus or Catarina could make disappear, but at the time, that hadn’t been their priority.

On that day, it’d been the fourth anniversary of Alec’s death. Jace always became reckless on the anniversaries, so Clary was extra alert to his actions. They were all growing too old for missions, at least the physical kind, but Jace didn’t slow down. They all knew that he couldn’t bring himself to. Magnus expected him to visit his loft because he always did on the anniversaries, but didn’t that day. It’d worried Magnus and he had the right to be anxious when he received a phone call from Clary, begging for him to come to Idris, that Jace had been hurt.

Magnus didn’t hesitate. He loved each of them like family, because they were his, Rafe and Max’s family. Even in death, Alec would never have wanted anything to happen to his brother. So, Magnus portaled himself near Idris without hesitancy. In Alicante, he was accepted, even respected, so no one hesitated to stop him from making his way to Clary and Jace’s house.

And when he arrived there, he learned of Jace’s stupid attempt to take on two dragon demons which resulted in an enormous burn on his neck that leaked poisonous ichor into his blood stream. Magnus knew immediately he needed Catarina’s help and they worked on Jace for nearly a day. By the time they were done, he was alive, but with scar tissue that couldn’t have been healed if they tried.

Now here they were, Alec staring at Jace’s rippled skin and Jace staring in Alec’s face, waiting. Alec reaches out, his finger running gently over his brother’s scar. “How did this happen?”

Jace grimaces. “Dragon demon.” That’s how he leaves it and the others know to stay quiet. It’s not right to add when it was or why it happened.

“I should have been there,” Alec whispers as he drops his hand. It’s clear that he blames himself. “I should have had your back.”

A noise escapes through Izzy’s nostrils. “Alec, you’ve always had our back. It’s the reason why you died in the first place!”

The apple in Alec’s throat bobs and he licks his lips. “I know, but I should have—”

“You died, Alec,” Izzy says, abruptly cutting off Alec’s arguments. She’s not crying because Izzy is tough and Magnus has never seen her cry except once, and that was holding Alec’s dead body as she begged him to come back. She wouldn’t let his body go and it took Magnus’s approach for her to break. She’d begged for his forgiveness for killing her brother, his husband, as buckets of tears slid over her pretty cheeks. He had nothing to forgive, and yet Izzy never saw it that way, not even to this day.

Alec drags her against his body again, his long arms wrapped around her tightly, and she falls into his warmth.

“Are you a vampire now?” Simon speaks up for the first time. He’s no longer a daywalker, not even a vampire at all thanks to Magnus’s father, but an ascended Shadowhunter. Or at least a retired one. He and Izzy have been married for eleven years and while he’s not as close as the others to Alec, he’s still clearly shaken by the encounter with a dead man. 

Alec frowns at him over Izzy’s shoulder. “No, why would I be a vampire?”

“Because you’re dead,” Simon points out, “but not dead. The Undead!” He grins to himself, like he’s made a great joke. No one laughs.

Alec makes a face at Izzy. “Did you have to bring him along?”

“Aw, come on,” Simon whines.

They all laugh because that’s something Alec would say and it’s a reminder that this is actually Alec and not some shapeshifter playing a game with their hearts.

“I’m going to get a drink. Do you want one?” Alec asks Magnus as he pops a small kiss on his husband’s lips. He doesn’t wait for an answer as he grabs Jace by the arm and drags him toward the kitchen. At least where the kitchen would have been if Magnus hadn’t redecorated.

It’s painful to see Alec’s confused frown when he exits back out of the room, which is a huge closet now. “Where’s the kitchen?”

Magnus reminds himself to change the loft back to the way it was before Alec died, and he points to the door to the right. Alec nods as he once again drags Jace that way.

“Why don’t you all go sit in the lounge room? I’ll go check up on them,” Magnus suggests and the three remaining Shadowhunters do as they are told.

Magnus isn’t trying to eavesdrop, he’s not. And he’s not jealous, because that gnawing feeling in his stomach is purely nerves…or at least that’s what he tells himself. It hits him hard that it’s Jace that Alec drags to the kitchen, which is silly really because Jace is Alec’s _parabatai_. None the less, Magnus wants to know why Alec did it, what he’d have to say to Jace that he clearly wants no one else to hear.

“How has Magnus been?” It’s whispered, but desperate.

It feels like an arrow through Magnus’s heart. A mixture of pleasure that Alec is worried about him, but also agony because he knows Alec sees through his lies and smiles. He’d once been good at keeping a mask, but it’s hard when he has been in pain for ten years. He’s lost people he’s loved before, of course, but Alec is different. He’s always been different. He’s Magnus’s soul mate.

Magnus can almost feel Jace’s hesitation. “Not good. I don’t see him much. He makes excuses not to come to Alicante and visit us. The only time I really see him is once a year, on the anniversaries of your death.”

Magnus knows it takes a lot from Jace to admit that and he sighs. It’s true though. Every time Jace or Clary or even Izzy and Simon invites him out, he makes excuses. And on the anniversaries, he makes himself available for Jace because he knows how much Jace _hurts_. On those days, he pretends he doesn’t feel the same pain because he’s there as the comforter. 

“Jace, I can’t bear to see him like this. He’s…not the same.”

Magnus gasps quietly. He knows that he’s not the same person he was before, but hearing it from his husband’s lips breaks his heart.

“You wouldn’t be either if you lost Magnus for ten years,” Jace whispers in return. “Alec, I don’t think you realize what your death did to us. It broke us. None of us are the same.”

It’s true. Alec’s death has changed them in ways they can’t comprehend and Alec can’t see that because he doesn’t realize how important he is to them and how much of an impact he made in their lives. Without Alec, their lives were different, empty, and it took its toll on them.

“I’m sorry.” 

There’s movement and Magnus peers into the room to see them hugging. He decides now is the time to show himself. As soon as Alec sees him, he slowly pulls away from his brother.

“Jace, can I talk to Alexander alone please?” Magnus asks and Jace nods and slaps Alec on the back. He smiles at Magnus as he exits the kitchen.

Alec shifts his weight between his feet. “I’m sorry, Magnus.”

 _You must stop saying that_ , Magnus wants to say, but he sighs instead. “Alexander, your death cut us all very deeply. You left behind a lot of people who loved you.”

“Jace—”

“Has a scar on his neck to prove it. That burn was from a dragon demon like he said, but he received it on the fourth anniversary of your death. He was reckless because he’d rather deal physical pain than deal with the emotional agony that came on that particular day.”

Magnus holds Alec’s hand in his and squeezes. “Izzy blames herself. The day you died, she begged me for forgiveness for killing my husband.”

“But she never—”

“No, she didn’t. But she doesn’t see it that way.” He pauses. “Clary was hurt just as much as the others. She couldn’t enter your office for two years. She blatantly refused to, even after Jace took over as head of the institute. Izzy and Simon moved to Alicante immediately after you died because everything reminded them of you, and Jace and Clary followed three years later because they couldn’t deal with being in the institute either.”

Alec bites his lip hard enough to bruise it and Magnus raises his finger to gently ease his lip away from his teeth. 

“Don’t, Alexander. Don’t blame yourself. Just understand.” Magnus nuzzles Alec’s cheek. “You’re right. I’m not the same person as I was before because I couldn’t bear to truly smile when my husband is no longer at my side. I couldn’t bear to care about anything other than the boys because that’s how much I missed you and needed you.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t apologize, my love, because this isn’t your fault.” He stares into the deep pools of sapphire that are Alec’s eyes. “It’ll never be your fault.”

“Tell me how to fix it. How to fix you,” Alec begs with desperation. His gaze holds so much sorrow that it hurts to look at them.

“You can’t fix me, Alexander.” Magnus curls his hand around the back of Alec’s neck and pulls him as close as he can get him. “I will never forget that pain. But you being back will help me overcome it. It will help me move on and learn to be happy again because you’re here, in my arms, for eternity.”

Alec kisses him softly, a light touch of lips, and it makes Magnus melt in his husband’s arms. He missed this and he relishes in it because he never thought he’d have the chance again.

“I was afraid…” Alec trails off and glances away. He looks uncomfortable, vulnerable even.

“You were afraid of what, my darling?” Magnus grips his chin and leads Alec’s gaze back to him. “What are you afraid of?”

“I was afraid that I was too late. That you’d met someone else.” He licks his lips. “I would have wanted you to move on, Magnus. I hate seeing you sad, but I don’t think I could have dealt with being so close to you when you had someone else.”

Magnus rears back in shock. Their hold on each other loosens and Alec appears lost, even more vulnerable than before, as his hands slip off Magnus’s arms. 

“When did you think this?” His voice sounds strangled, even to his own ears.

“When we entered the loft.”

“Why would you think that?” Magnus can’t comprehend it. He’d never so much as glanced at another man after Alec’s death. It was the very last thought in his mind and it hurts to think Alec assumed he’d be with another person. Ten years is not enough time, but a thousand years wouldn’t have been enough either.

“It’s just…” Alec lowers his eyes to the ground. “You had takeaway boxes everywhere and then you lied so quickly.” He shakes his head. “I just assumed you’d had a date night or something with someone else.”

Magnus wants to laugh because it’s the silliest thing he’s ever heard. “I _lied_ because I couldn’t bear to tell you that I am so heartbroken, even ten years later, that I can’t look after myself. I have to buy takeaway because my loving husband, the one who cooked meals for me, was dead and I couldn’t bring myself to walk into the kitchen without thinking about him and how much I missed him. I had to refurbish the loft so it wouldn’t look the same as before you died, because everything I did in the old loft reminded me of you and it broke my fucking heart.” 

By the end of his speech, Magnus is a mess. His heart is constricting in his chest and his stomach is in knots. He folds his arms over his body to protect himself, but he doesn’t know what from. Alec could never hurt him. Maybe it’s his own fear of Alec’s judgement. He’s an all-powerful warlock; the high warlock of Brooklyn, yet his grief has annihilated him over the last ten years. He’s mourned before, but not like this, never like this.

Magnus lurches out of his thoughts when Alec’s arms wrap around him, and he’s enveloped in his husband’s warmth. Alec bends and presses his face into Magnus’s shoulder, his breath tickling the skin on his neck. 

“I’m not going to leave you again, Magnus. I promise. I won’t.”

Magnus wants to believe him, but he can’t. Alec is a Shadowhunter. Nothing will change that, not even death. They can try and keep him away from the institute, but Magnus already knows it won’t work. Alec was raised to be a warrior and he’ll always chose to return to it and knowing that breaks Magnus’s heart.

♥♦♣

Their guests don’t leave for six hours. They spend most of their time filling Alec in on what’s happened since he died. They talk about Clary and Jace’s son, Stephen, who works beneath Rafe as a Shadowhunter. He’s their only child and he had only just had his rune ceremony before Alec died. Now he’s twenty and he’s an excellent soldier, but is so much like Jace that he could have been his father’s twin.

Then they talk about Izzy and Simon’s kids. Three girls and a boy. Only the little boy, Samuel, was born after Alec’s death. The two eldest daughters, Lennox and Leia, are very much like Izzy and they are both Shadowhunters. The third, Moira, is a carbon copy of Simon. Every inch as geeky and at twenty, she happily lives a Mundane life, attending an art college.

Magnus isn’t annoyed at their guests, but he’s relieved when they finally leave. He wants to spend time with Alec and the sudden silence of the room is as peaceful as he could hope for.

Alec’s head is lying on his chest and his eyes are closed, but he’s not asleep. His breathing hasn’t deepened like it does when he falls into slumber and there are no cute little snores. Nevertheless, Magnus runs his hands through Alec’s hair comfortingly.

“I can change the loft back to the way it was before?” Magnus suggests quietly as his hand travels lower, to Alec’s back.

Alec hums against his chest. “No, don’t. I don’t want to remind you of the grief, Magnus. Change is good. I can get used to it.”

The change is good for Magnus, yes, but it’s not good for Alec. Sometimes he forgets how much it affects his husband too. It must be weird for him, coming back from the dead to see everything had changed. Everyone had changed.

“I want you to be happy,” Magnus says, his hand pausing its ministrations on Alec’s back.

Alec tilts his head and he smiles up at him. “I’m back with you. I am happy.”

Magnus chest aches. “Alexander, my love, talk to me? Tell me how you feel.”

He shakes his head and rests it back on Magnus’s chest. He stays silent.

“You don’t want to tell me?” It hurts.

Alec sighs. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Alec shifts until he’s sitting up on the sofa and Magnus misses his warmth, but he accepts the distance. Maybe that’s what Alec needs to talk to him.

“Alec?”

“I can’t believe I missed the birth of my nephew.” His hands clench around the edge of the sofa. “I missed so much.”

Magnus reaches out to touch his shoulder. “My darling, you know it’s not your fault.”

“Stop saying that, Magnus. I know.” He shakes his head. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“If you hadn’t saved his mom, Sam wouldn’t exist.”

“I love Izzy. I’d do it over again.” He looks at Magnus in shame, as though he has reason to be embarrassed about admitting that. But Magnus isn’t angry. He knows Alec. He understands him and he doesn’t fault him for being the protector of his family. He wouldn’t have married Alec if he wasn’t that type of man.

“But I can’t help but regret it as well. Like, maybe, if I had noticed the demon earlier, I could have reacted quicker. And we could have both lived and I wouldn’t have missed out on ten years of my own children’s lives. Or our life together.”

Magnus has always believed that everything happens for a reason, and he briefly wonders what the reason for Alec’s death was. Back then, he might have hated the thought that it happened for a purpose, but right now, he wonders. Maybe it was meant to happen because now Alec is immortal and they get to spend the rest of their lives together. Maybe that was always the end game for them.

“But you’re here with us now.” Magnus’s fingers curl around his upper arm and pulls him back against his chest. It feels right, like they are two pieces of a puzzle that align perfectly.

Alec’s breathing stutters for a moment and then his body relaxes beneath Magnus’s touch. “I love you, Magnus.”

Magnus smiles and it feels great because he doesn’t have to force it. “I love you to, angel. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

There’s always another day, another challenge, and Magnus knows tomorrow will have something in store for them. He doesn’t know what, but whatever it was, they would face it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are ♥. More coming in the next couple of days.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter nearly killed me. No, seriously, it did. LOL. I am so tired and it was so hard to write. I don't even know why. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> WARNING • WARNING • WARNING :::: There is graphic sex ahead. Sorry, but not sorry. I will always warn you ahead of time so you can skip it if you feel the need to do so. Much love. xo.

It takes Magnus hours to fall asleep that night and when he finally does, he wakes up again with a jerk. It’s like this all night, while Alec has fallen prey to a deep sleep. He clearly needs it and he looks so peaceful, so angelic next to Magnus, that when Magnus does jerk awake, he just stares at his husband until sleep once again envelops him. 

By the time he wakes up in the morning, Magnus is wide awake in a cold bed that was abandoned at least hours ago. He frets as soon as he notices Alec isn’t lying next to him and jumps out of his cacoon of blankets. The loft is empty and Magnus’s heart feels heavy in chest, like maybe he was right, and this is all a dream and not real at all. But then the door opens and Alec slips in with a paper bag and some takeaway coffee cups. He pauses when he sees Magnus’s wide-eyed, panicked stare.

“What happened?” Alec asks, gaze darting around the room, looking for a threat of some kind.

“Where have you been?” Magnus doesn’t mean for it to come out with loud abruptness, but it does and Alec appears taken aback by his tone. 

“I went to get us some doughnuts and coffee,” he says, holding up the paper bag and tray of cups in his hands. 

It’s something he used to do all the time and Magnus loved when he woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and sweet treats. But not today. Today his heart is thumping against his ribs and his stomach clenches and unclenches in fear, and he moves before his mind can catch up with his actions. He throws himself at Alec, causing the tray to tip out Alec’s hands and splatter hot coffee across the floor. Magnus doesn’t care. He holds his husband’s body and he breathes in the scent of sandalwood, the smell of the body wash they once shared.

“Magnus?” Alec seems confused, unsure, but he wraps his arms around Magnus and holds him.

Alec’s warm, hard body against his own reminds him that his husband is still here, still very much alive, but he can’t bring himself to let go. Not yet. But Alec doesn’t seem to mind because he holds Magnus as tightly. It isn’t until Magnus’s phone rings that he finally breaks out of his fearful thoughts.

“Are you going to answer that?” Alec whispers against his shoulder.

Magnus doesn’t want to, but he knows he must. So, he carefully extracts himself from his husband and strides over to the kitchen island to grab his phone. It’s Izzy.

“Izzy? Is everything okay?” It’s not often that she rings him anymore and he’s immediately worried.

“Hi, Magnus.” She seems hesitant, unsure. “Is Alec there? I would have called him but he doesn’t have a phone anymore, because you know…”

_Because he died_ , is left unsaid.

Magnus frowns as he passes over the phone to Alec. He doesn’t eavesdrop, or at least he tries not to as he flicks his hand to get rid of the mess the coffee made, but he does hear certain snippets. Alec is trying to reassure Izzy that he doesn’t blame her for his death, but it doesn’t sound like it’s working. Magnus doesn’t expect it to. Izzy is traumatised, hurt, and she needs reassurance from Alec now he’s back from the dead.

While they talk, Magnus makes himself busy. He takes the paper bag out of Alec’s hand and pulls a doughnut out. It’s his favourite kind—triple chocolate—and as soon as the icing touches his tongue, he moans. He hasn’t had a triple chocolate doughnut in ten years. There are a lot of things he hasn’t done since Alec died, but the reminder of his dead husband had always been too much for him to handle, so he mostly avoided a lot of things.

It takes an hour before Alec finishes his conversation with Izzy and when he sets the phone down on the counter, he’s wide eyed and concerned. “I’ve never heard Izzy like that before.”

Magnus smiles sadly. “That’s the Izzy we’ve known since you died.”

Alec shakes his head. “Why hasn’t anyone helped her? Taken her to get counselling?”

Magnus frowns. “Do you honestly think we haven’t tried, Alexander? We wouldn’t have abandoned her. But you know Izzy, she’d never go for it.”

It hurts that Alec would even suggest that they hadn’t tried to help her and Magnus’s fists clench. He rises from his chair and turns his back on Alec, doing something, anything, to avoid looking at the other man. He compliments his ability not to jump when hands rest on his shoulders, making him pause in cleaning the bench without magic.

“I’m sorry.” Alec sounds defeated and it makes Magnus turn toward him. “I’m just…I don’t know what to do with this, Magnus.”

_Neither do I_ , he thinks. He doesn’t say it aloud though, he just nods.

“Sometimes I wonder if coming back from the dead was a good thing or not.”

It feels like the breath is punched out of his chest at those words. “Don’t be stupid, Alexander.” He swallows and his saliva feels like acid in his throat. “We’ve talked about this. We need time.”

“I know,” Alec whispers. “So do I.”

And once again, Magnus is reminded that Alec is suffering as much as the rest of them. He feels selfish for not giving it much thought, so he entwines their fingers and leads Alec over to the sofa. They fall onto it and Magnus stares at his husband.

“Talk to me.”

Magnus knows Alec hates talking about emotions. He’s been brought up with the idea that emotions are weaknesses, but he was much more open about his feelings before his death. Magnus had encouraged him to talk to him about them. But it feels different somehow, like Alec is back to his usual stoic self, and that scares Magnus.

“Talk to me, Alexander,” he says again, squeezing Alec’s fingers. “Remember what I said to you once before? When times get tough—”

“Talk to you. I know.” Alec sighs. “I don’t know what I’m meant to say.”

“You’re not meant to say anything, Alec. I’m not forcing you, but I would like you to tell me how you’re feeling. What’s going through your head.”

“Everything.” Alec clambers closer to Magnus and leans against his chest. “It’s so confusing.”

“What is?” Magnus wraps his arms around Alec.

“Everything.”

Magnus sighs. It doesn’t feel like they are getting anywhere and he doesn’t know how else to encourage Alec to talk. To tell him things. It was never like this after they got married. Alec was always so open, so talkative, but Magnus understands. He understands how confusing this is for Alec, so he stays quiet.

The silence is deafening and Magnus closes his eyes. He wonders what to do next and realizes that the answer is clear. He needs to call Max. 

Alec and Max were close before Alec’s death and Max lived by his father’s example. He wanted to be Alec in every way, even so much as dreaming of being a Shadowhunter. It was heartbreaking for Magnus and Alec to tell Max he couldn’t be one and their little blueberry hadn’t taken it well. He yelled and screamed his hatred of being a Warlock and it took them hours to calm him down. It took another two years before Max was proud of his heritage.

“Magnus.”

Alec’s whisper breaks him out of his thoughts. “Yes, my love?”

“It’s confusing. Everything is confusing.”

Magnus holds his breath and doesn’t utter a word. He listens.

“Everything is so different. The last thing I remember is Rafe being eighteen. Max was sixteen. And everything was perfect. We were perfect. You and I were both happy and we had plans to expand our family. One minute my life was perfect, the next, I wake up to find everything has changed. I _died_. Everyone I knew had changed. You’re not happy anymore, Jace is…more reckless than he was before, which I didn’t think was possible. Izzy is a shell of the person she used to be. Rafe is twenty-eight years old. How does that happen? How does our teenage boy go from being eighteen to twenty-eight in seconds? Because that’s what it feels like to me. Seconds.” He shakes his head and tightens his hold on Magnus’s hand. “I haven’t seen Max yet…”

Magnus knows. He thought about calling Max before he went to bed last night, but chose not to. It isn’t about being selfish when it comes to Max, but about being not selfish. He’s in Europe, celebrating his anniversary with his boyfriend, and Magnus doesn’t want to ruin that. Because if he rang Max to let him know what was going on, Max would make a portal immediately and drag Christian home. That isn’t fair on either of them. And he knows Max will hate him for not telling him immediately, but he wants his—their—son to enjoy his holiday a little longer before everything changes for Max and Christian.

“I can call him if you want?” He says.

Alec shakes his head. “No. I…not yet.” The look in his eyes tells Magnus that he wants to see his son very badly, but he worries. He worries about the differences he’ll see in his son, like the differences he’s seen in his other family.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Magnus whispers.

Alec agrees with a nod and falls quiet again.

Magnus hates the silence today. “I have something of yours.”

Alec’s stare flicks to him curiously. “What is it?”

Magnus has plenty of things that belong to Alec still in his closet. He couldn’t bear to throw them out. He gently moves Alec out of the way and rises, leading his husband toward their bedroom. Alec follows him quietly and Magnus feels the stare on the back of his head as he opens his—their—closet.

The bow and quiver are near the front of Alec’s possessions because there has been more than one time where Magnus has pulled them out and just stared at them. He’s run his finger along the arrows and over the perfectly crafted arch of the bow. He wanted to remember his husband on those days and nothing reminded him more of Alec than his weapon.

Alec reaches for it when Magnus holds it out and his fingers wrap around the bow. He traces the arch with his palm, touching and feeling it as though it’s a long-lost lover and Magnus watches because he can’t bring himself to look away. 

“You kept these?”

“How could I not?” Magnus lays a hand on his shoulder.

Alec sighs. “What am I going to do, Magnus? Now I’m back, what am I going to do?”

“You can do whatever you want to do, Alexander. This is your second chance.” Magnus covers Alec’s hand that’s on the bow and smiles. “You can be whoever you want to be. You’ve sacrificed enough for the Clave, for the Shadowhunters.”

“I know.” He shakes his head. “But being a Shadowhunter is the only thing I know how to be.”

“That can change. We can find you something else to do.” Magnus sounds hopeful, far too hopeful. He knows by the way Alec glances at him that it’s obvious he wants Alec to walk away from it. “You have Rafe now. He’s a good Shadowhunter and the head of the institute. He will represent the Lightwood name.”

“But what if they need me, what if Rafe needs me?” Uncertainty colors his voice and he stares at the bow. “I still have my runes. That should mean something, right?”

Magnus wants to tell him no, that it doesn’t mean anything, but he stays quiet. His heart feels like it’s cracking in his chest as the memory of Alec’s dead body in Isabelle’s arms flashes through his mind. He can’t lose Alec again, because he won’t survive this time.

Alec sets his bow and quiver on the bed and sighs. He presses closer to Magnus, resting their foreheads together. “Do you really want to know what I’m thinking?”

“Yes.” It comes out so quietly that Magnus is surprised by his own voice. He closes his eyes and feels Alec against him, smells his familiar scent, and touches the warm skin as he cups Alec’s neck.

“I’m scared because I _don’t_ know who brought me back. But…I get these flashbacks with faces that I can’t recognize. But I get the feeling I know them, but I don’t, Magnus. I don’t know them.”

Magnus’s eyelids flash open and he stares in Alec’s pretty, blue eyes. “What happens in these flashbacks?”

“They say things to me, but not full sentences. It’s like pieces of conversation we had. I remember hearing your name. A woman was talking about you, like maybe she knew you.”

“What did she say?”

“Not much, or at least not that I can remember. She mentions you as a child. Which is impossible, right? How could she know you as a child?”

Magnus rears back in surprise. “What did she look like, Alexander?”

“I don’t know. I can’t really remember any of her appearance. It’s like a shadow was covering it. Do you think it’s from the afterlife?”

It was possible and that leaves Magnus breathless. What if the woman he saw, he talked to, was Magnus’s mother? It seems implausible, but at the same time, it is very conceivable. He thumbs the deflect rune on Alec’s neck. “It could be. Is there anything else? A clue on who could have brought you back?”

Alec shakes his head sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He runs the pads of his fingers from Alec’s jawline to his collarbone, earning him a gasp in reply. Alec always loves it when he does that.

“Magnus.” It comes out in a half moan, half gasp, and Magnus feels things he hasn’t felt in a long time. Passion and need flares up inside of him and the blood in his veins begin its descent, toward his dormant cock.

The long expanse of Alec’s neck is exposed to him as Alec’s head falls back, his eyes closing and his mouth parting. Magnus’s hand moves on its own accord, his fingers curling against the exposed neck as he leans forward to brush his lips over Alec’s pulse point. The steady beat of Alec’s pulse is strong against his lips and Magnus bites into the flesh, drawing out a long, wanton moan from Alec’s parted mouth. 

Magnus hasn’t had any interest in anyone else, man or woman, and his passion and lust is a long-forgotten memory, at least until now. He knows Alec’s body like his own and he wants to play it like an instrument, he wants to make Alec sing from his touch and kisses, and he plans to right then and there.

Alec’s palm runs over the front of Magnus’s tight pants, guiding Magnus’s cock to fill from a mere touch. It’s been so long, too long, and his cock reacts accordingly. It begins to harden in his pants, the blood gathering south, and his balls tightening in need.

Alec turns his head and Magnus slams his mouth over Alec’s. The kiss is filled with desire and need and Magnus’s tongue dominates the warm cavern of Alec’s mouth. Magnus’s hand is still wrapped around Alec’s neck and he tightens his hold, only slightly, which makes his husband groan into his mouth.

When they break the kiss, Alec is breathing heavily, his mouth inches from Magnus as he pants Magnus’s name in a plea. Magnus knows what Alec wants and for a brief second, he questions whether it’s the right thing to do. Alec has only just come back from death and Magnus doesn’t want to hurt him, but he misses Alec too much. If Alec wasn’t ready, he’d tell Magnus. 

With a hand on Alec’s chest, Magnus shoves him back until his legs hit the bed and Alec falls onto it. He narrowly avoids falling on his bow and arrow, but Alec doesn’t seem to care as he pushes them off the mattress, making them clatter on the floor. He raises himself on his elbows and smiles at Magnus, his now lust filled eyes beckoning Magnus forward. Magnus doesn’t falter. 

He blankets his body on top of Alec’s and their lips meet again. This kiss says a lot of things, like how much they missed each other, how much they needed each other and how much they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. It’s passionate and needy and Magnus doesn’t want to break apart. The only thing that makes them is the lack of air. 

“Shift up,” Magnus whispers and Alec complies, wiggling further into the bed so his legs aren’t hanging over the side. Magnus follows him and falls between Alec’s opened thighs. Their cocks align through their clothed bodies and Magnus grinds down on Alec’s hardening erection. A groan reverberates around the room and Magnus isn’t sure whether it comes from him or Alec. 

“Magnus,” Alec murmurs, and it sounds hungry and primal.

Magnus hates denying his husband and the begging in Alec’s voice is clear as day to him. His lips curl into a smile and he nods. “I have you, Alec,” he promises as he caresses Alec’s jaw.

Their lips meet and this time it’s slower and loving and Magnus revels in the touch of Alec’s soft lips against his own. Excitement shoots down his spine and his skin tingles and he knows he won’t last long the first time. He doesn’t want to, not when he has Alec here with him once again.

“Too many clothes,” Alec moans into his mouth and Magnus obeys his silent askance and snaps his fingers, blue wisps of magic dancing across their bodies and making their clothes disappear and taking away the only barrier between their naked bodies.

Now Alec is free of clothes, Magnus sits back on his knees and _looks_ at him. Really looks. Alec’s young body isn’t what Magnus remembers. There aren’t as many scars as Alec had when he died and his abdominal muscles are harder, his skin more vibrant. Magnus loved Alec the way he was before he died and he hadn’t minded the softness Alec gained over the years as he aged. Rather, he loved the softness when he ran his tongue over Alec’s stomach. But the Alec in front of him was young again, and he looked like he had when they first met, and Magnus didn’t mind that either. No matter how many scars he had, no matter how soft or hard he was, Magnus loved Alec Lightwood.

Alec freezes beneath him. “Is something wrong?”

Magnus stares at him from beneath heavy-lidded eyelashes. He blinks at him slowly, lovingly. “There’s nothing wrong. You’re perfect.”

Alec beams. “Not as old as I used to be.”

That makes Magnus frown. “Don’t be silly, Alexander. I love you, no matter how you look. I fell in love with your soul. Your beauty was just an added part of you.”

Alec’s grin widens and he curls his fingers around the back of Magnus’s neck, pulling him down into a kiss. With no clothes as a barrier, their hot skin rubs against each other and they both groan. He feels himself losing control and the glamor on his eyes falls, leaving him staring at his husband with yellow cat-slitted eyes.

Alec whimpers. “Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you, my love,” he replies with a quick peck on the lips.

Magnus reaches between their bodies and wraps a hand around Alec’s cock and tugs. The scorching, hard flesh in his hand feels amazing and he forgets to think for a moment because all he wants to do is feel. He misses everything about his Alexander and that includes his cock in his hand.

“Tell me what you want,” Magnus whispers against Alec’s lips.

Alec whimpers. “You. Always you.”

Magnus groans at the words and the motion of his hand stutters to a stop. He can’t argue with Alec’s request, he never needs to. His lips start at Alec’s neck, right where his deflect rune marks his skin. He kisses and nibbles, the taste of the gathering sweat heavy on his tongue. Magnus loves the taste of Alec’s sweat, he loves the taste of anything that belongs to Alec. But he’s too riled up, too eager, to keep his attention on the skin there, so he tongues down Alec’s collarbone to the middle of his chest, between his raised pectoral muscles. 

Alec groans and has his head thrown back as Magnus explores his body. It’s been too long and Magnus just wants to be inside of Alec, to feel him. He runs his lips over Alec’s stomach, pausing to flick his tongue in his bellybutton. Alec hisses and he cards his fingers through Magnus’s hair, tugging on it teasingly. He knows Magnus loves that, and he really does. It sends a thrill of pleasure straight to his cock.

“Stop teasing, Magnus. There isn’t any time. I want you, now.”

Magnus gazes up along Alec’s body until he meets his husband’s eyes and he smirks. “But shouldn’t we take this slow, love? Remind ourselves of each other’s body?”

Alec sends him a mock glare. “I think we’ve waited long enough, Bane.”

Magnus chuckles. He firmly agrees, but he also doesn’t want to move too quickly. Alec’s cock is wonderful to look at, eight inches and fat as it curves toward his stomach. It’s constantly begged for his attention and Magnus is always very willing to give it. And today is no exception.

Magnus slides his tongue along Alec’s length, earning him a hiss from his husband. His cock jerks and Magnus doesn’t take his eyes off it. He can’t. So, he does it again, but this time the lick is longer and when he reaches the end of Alec’s cock, he slips the tip into his mouth. At the same time, he rubs his thumb and middle finger together, his magic sizzling at the friction, before his fingers are coated in lube. 

He teases Alec’s entrance and slowly pushes a finger past the tight ring of muscle. It’s tighter than he expects and Alec inhales sharply wiggling his ass as Magnus pushes past his knuckle.

“Are you okay, love?” Magnus asks gently as he licks the slit on Alec’s cock. He wants Alec is be comfortable, but he’s so tight, so wound up, that it feels like Alec’s a virgin again.

Alec nods. “Yeah. Yeah. Keep going.”

Magnus obeys with a flick of his tongue over his cock and adds a second finger. It’s a little easier to get in than the first and he scissors Alec gently, but surely, because it’s the only way to stretch him. He hears a hiss of pain from his husband, but it’s not loud enough to worry Magnus. Anal sex is painful at times and Alec knows to tell him when to slow down or when to stop altogether. He never does though.

Now he’s stretched, the third finger goes in easily. With three fingers stretching Alec’s hole, it doesn’t take him long to find the bump inside of Alec that makes him moan and quiver beneath Magnus’s touch. He’s a bundle of nerves and that’s how Magnus likes him best. By the way Alec’s balls are tightening and cock is jerking, Magnus _knows_ it won’t be long before he comes, and the warlock is in the same situation. His own hard erection is slapping against his thigh, dark and red and begging for attention, and the mere action of fingering Alec while sucking him off has his cock ready to explode. He can’t wait a minute longer.

He shifts so he’s sitting on his knees and hooks his arms under Alec’s knees, lifting his legs so they rest on his shoulders, and stares down at Alec’s face. His eyes are hooded with lust, his tongue licking along his bottom lip as he gazes back with need and desire. His hair is mussed and he’s the most beautiful person Magnus has ever seen. He doesn’t want to give this up ever again.

“Are you ready?” Magnus murmurs, his cock jerking at the thought of being inside of his husband.

Alec nods and Magnus doesn’t hesitate for a second long. He lines up his erection to Alec’s hole and pushes in. Alec’s ass engulfs him like fire, burning his skin from the pure unadulterated heat that works its way from his cock to throughout the rest of his body. The desire and need is unbearable as it ripples just under his skin as he teeters on the edge of losing all control. He can barely contain his magic as a lamp on a cabinet in the room shatters. It’s not unusual for things like that to happen when he’s inside Alec though, so neither of them falter.

When Magnus bottoms out in Alec, their groans are primal and needy. Alec doesn’t give himself time to adjust, he clearly wants it hard and rough as he pushes his ass downward to meet Magnus, as though there’s more of Magnus’s cock that he can fit inside of him. There’s not. But there are other ways to satisfy Alec and Magnus begins to move. His thrusting begins as a slow drag in and out of Alec and he keeps a steady pace. He doesn’t want to hurt his husband, but he knows it won’t be long before they both lose their patience. Desire coils around the base of spine like a snake, ready to attack, and there is only so long before Magnus lets loose on his control.

Alec shows his impatience first as he locks his ankles over Magnus’s shoulder and pushes him down with his feet. Magnus’s body falls over Alec’s and their lips meet in a deep kiss that makes his toes curl.

“Fuck me, Magnus,” Alec whimpers against his mouth, his tongue darting out to capture a taste of Magnus’s lips.

Magnus grins and repositions himself. He grasps Alec’s thighs and begins thrusting once more. The thrusting has no rhythm to it anymore, it’s hard and fast and passionate. His cock slides in and out of Alec and his balls are already tightening against his body in warning. But he ignores his desire for the moment to focus on Alec—his beautiful, strong husband who has lost all self-preservation. He’s crying out in pleasure, begging and pleading for Magnus to move faster, harder, and he’s so fucking attractive that Magnus knows he won’t have long before it’s all over.

And he’s right. Alec doesn’t even have to touch himself before he’s coming, his cock jerking as streams of cum spurts over his stomach and chest, some even making it as high as his cheek. And if that isn’t the most erotic sight Magnus has ever seen, he doesn’t know what else is. His fingernails are leaving crescent shaped marks in Alec’s thighs and he thrusts three more times before his body locks in pleasure and his balls unload. His erection jerks inside of Alec, filling him with his love and need and desire. This is how he feels about his husband, how much he needs him, and as his cum continues to coat Alec’s insides, Magnus leans down to devour the other man’s mouth. It isn’t until Magnus has nothing left inside of him that he pulls out and collapses on the bed beside his husband. With a flick of his wrist, they are both clean, but still sweaty.

Alec laughs as his hand falls against his chest, over his rapidly beating heart. “Wow.”

Magnus hums in agreement.

“That clarifies some things.”

The warlock glances at Alec and raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like how much I missed it.” Alec grins and it’s so beautiful—so real. 

Magnus can’t help but reply with a smile of his own. “I missed it too, Alexander. I missed you.”

♥♦♥

Magnus stretches, his muscles aching as his body protests the movement. He’s curled around Alec’s body, with Alec’s back to his chest, and he can’t remember the last time he woke up so happy in his life. Maybe it was ten years ago, like nearly everything else he barely remembers.

He cuddles closer to Alec and kisses the back of his neck. “Baby, you awake?”

Alec hums in contentedness and pushes his ass against Magnus’s growing erection. It takes every piece of his willpower not to rip off the blankets and make love to his husband again. They’d already been at it three times that morning. 

“Baby?” He licks the shell of Alec’s ear, receiving a moan in response.

“Why are you waking me up?” Alec grumbles and it makes Magnus laugh. He’s usually the anti-morning person in their relationship. Although technically, it was no longer morning.

“Because we need to get up. We slept through lunchtime.”

Alec waves a tired hand impatiently at him. “Who cares? Let’s sleep all afternoon as well.”

“Hm, I like the idea of that,” Magnus agrees as he cuddles further into Alec.

Alas, time alone was a rare commodity when one’s husband came back from the dead, so when his phone rings, Magnus glares at it. He considers throwing it out the window, but then reminds himself of his sons and friends that might need him.

“Magnus, turn it off,” Alec whines into the pillow.

He reluctantly pulls away from his husband, receiving a sad whine in response, and leans over to grab the phone off the bedside cabinet. Rafael’s name flashes on his screen and Magnus’s eyes narrow as he answers it.

“Rafa?”

That catches Alec’s attention. He rolls over in the bed, the blankets bundling around him as he moves and frowns at Magnus.

“Papa, is Dad still with you?” Rafe’s voice is etched with concern and it puts Magnus is high alert.

“Yes, he is. Is something the matter?”

“I…” Rafe’s hesitance sounds alarm bells in Magnus’s head. He’s more like Alec than he thinks. “We found a dead werewolf body at the Jade Wolf. Maia’s territory.”

Magnus swallows the lump in his throat. “What does this have to do with your dad?”

“Papa…Dad’s name has been cut into his chest. Whoever did this, knows Dad is back from the dead.” Rafe pauses, then sighs. “And I think it’s time to call Max back. We need his help.”

Horror makes his heart freeze in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are ♥. Now it's nearly midnight and I start work at 6am, so I'm going to bed! Goodnight!


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm back and I apologize. Clearly, I got a little busy there, but I'm hoping to have sorted this out. Maybe. But anyway, I'm going to try updating this once a week again, at a minimum at least. Maybe twice a week on good weeks, but it'll all depend on how much I have to work. I am truly sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I don't think there's TOO many errors in here, but I will check back again after work tomorrow. I thought the quicker I got this out, the better! I also hope there isn't too many tense mistakes...Tense loves playing games with my brain.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3

Magnus watches Alec carefully. He can’t help it, he worries about him. But he supposes there isn’t anything to worry about, at least not yet. Alec is playing the role of Shadowhunter again as though he never died. His face is void of emotion, his gaze full of concentration as he stares down at the body of the dead man on the stretcher. Even the other Shadowhunters’ stares don’t seem to break his attention, but Magnus can tell by the tenseness of his shoulders that he’s aware of their curiosity.

“Do we have a name?” Alec asks, his fingers hovering but not touching the carved skin of the man’s chest.

Like Rafe said, Alec’s full name is jaggedly knifed into the supple flesh of the torso. There is nothing else to point out how much the killer knows, but the name has Amber rigid beside Rafe. She stares between Alec and Magnus, as though she blames them for this man’s death, as though they could have somehow stopped this if Alec hadn’t left the institute.

One look from Magnus and her face falls into an apology. He has to remind himself that she’s young and grew up surrounded by Shadowhunters. Alec was once like her: the very definition of the perfect Nephilim according to their laws and expectations. And like Alec, Amber has to grow and learn to trust herself.

“He’s a vampire,” Rafe answers Alec’s question quietly, his gaze intent on his dad. “That’s as much as we know so far. We’re bringing in the coven leader for identification.”

Alec tilts his head toward Rafe. “Who is the coven leader these days? Lily was before I…well you know.”

Rafe nods. Yes, he knows, and so does everyone else in the room, Magnus included. “Lily is still the leader.”

Alec smiles then, his face brightening. Lily and he were good friends before he died, and he’d been the only Shadowhunter she trusted. After Alec’s death, her trust transferred to Rafe, because he was Alec’s son. And if he was Alec’s son, then he must have been trustworthy, or at least this is what she told Magnus at Alec’s funeral.

“She’s currently in Milan, for a meeting with the leader of the coven there.” Rafe waves his hand. “She’ll be here within the next couple of hours.”

“And in the meantime? Are we going to study his body for clues?”

 _We_. Magnus decides he hates that word. He wants to remind Alec that there is no we. That he’s not a Shadowhunter anymore, but Magnus is surprised to see Rafe smile and nod. They both follow the body as it’s rolled toward the morgue.

It leaves Magnus alone with Amber and they watch as their significant others disappear. Once Alec’s back has vanished through a door, anxiety lights in his chest like the beginning of a forest fire. It’s gradual at first, just a small bout of worry that begins to escalate. He has to remind himself that he’s lived without Alec for ten years and Alec won’t disappear on him again. Rafe will make sure of it, but the thought doesn’t help, so he turns to smile at Amber.

“Thank you, Amberlin.”

Amber frowns at him, her pretty face twisted in confusion. “For what?”

“For allowing Alec to help. It means a lot to him.” And it hurts because Alec is a Shadowhunter. He’ll always be a Shadowhunter.

Amber shakes her head, her long, dark curls bouncing with the movement. “Magnus, can I be honest with you?”

Magnus nods, but he knows he probably doesn’t want to hear what she has to say.

“I don’t think he should be back here.”

He agrees. He doesn’t think Alec should be back here either. They should be at home, celebrating like they had hours before. He should have Alec on his knees, his cock in his husband’s mouth. Or maybe the other way around. And he should have Alec in the kitchen, making his spectacular lasagne, something that Magnus’s stomach misses. He should also have Alec in the shower as he smooths his soft, pale back and shoulders with the loafer and sandalwood bath gel. He should have Alec in a lot of places, but the New York institute isn’t one of them.

But he doesn’t say anything, he just stares in the direction Alec and Rafe disappeared.

Amber isn’t done though. “He’s endangering us. All of us. A Downworlder is dead because of him.”

Magnus’s head jerks toward her and he finds himself glaring. “Alexander didn’t kill that vampire.”

“None the less—”

“No, Amber. There is no argument here. Alexander is not at fault for this. This vampire’s death isn’t on his shoulders.” He points a sparkly fingernail at her. “And I’d appreciate if you didn’t blame him for it, especially not in front of him.”

“I’d never—” She cuts off and sighs. “I’m sorry, Magnus. That was uncalled for. I just worry.”

“For your people?” It sounds bitter coming from his mouth, as though they’re back to the stage where Shadowhunters care only for their own. It’s not true, but he doesn’t appreciate the way she speaks about Alec either. Alec _is_ one of them, whether she cares to admit it or not. And Alec is also her fiancé’s father. Did that count for nothing?

“I don’t want to hurt him. Logically, I know this isn’t his fault.” She fiddles with her fingers and glances down the hallway. Shadowhunters are still milling about the observation room, waiting. Maybe they want to see great Alec Lightwood again, or maybe they’re just curious about the body. Magnus isn’t sure which one it is, but they aren’t moving very quickly, and it’s obvious that they’re trying to listen in on his and Amber’s conversation.

Magnus sighs and lays a hand on her shoulder. He squeezes it gently. “What upsets you more? That Rafe is fixated on Alec being back from the dead, or that Alec doesn’t seem to approve of you?”

She doesn’t deny either, but shrugs instead. Magnus knows she won’t speak, so he speaks for her.

“Amber, Alexander has always been a private man. He loves his family and he’s protective of them. We are all guilty in thinking about how we feel about this, that we’ve forgotten how _he_ must feel. One second, his son is eighteen, a novice Shadowhunter who’s growing into his own. The next, Rafe is twenty-eight, confident, no longer in need of his dad’s guidance and is the head of the New York Institute. It’s confusing for him and then he’s told that his child has a fiancé, a fiancé he’s never met until recently. A fiancé that tried to keep him from seeing his husband.”

Amber’s eyes widen and she pauses in her fiddling. “I wasn’t trying to keep him from you. I was worried about what this could mean. No one comes back from the dead, Magnus, especially not after being dead for ten years.”

“I know.” And that worries Magnus. It has from the beginning. “Have you discovered anything about that yet?”

She hesitates and glances at the other Shadowhunters, before she moves closer to Magnus. She whispers, “We have some leads. They’re not concrete, but there was definitely magic involved. But it’s an ancient magic, powerful and unidentifiable. Not a warlock’s magic.”

Magnus knows this. When he felt the magic inside of Alec, there was no normality about it. The power was breathtaking, yet overbearing, like being smothered with a blanket of raw strength. He’s never felt anything like that before and he doesn’t think he ever will again. No warlock could contain that much power.

“There’s no origin from the magic?”

She shakes her head in disappointment. “Whoever did this, is hiding their tracks. It’s like they know our thought process. Our capabilities as Shadowhunters.”

“Most Downworlders do,” Magnus says. “The Shadowhunters’s process for something like this hasn’t changed in hundreds of years, Amberlin. It’s nothing new to anyone.”

Amber chuckles. “Something like this? Nothing like this has ever happened before, Magnus.”

“The same idea applies though. Shadowhunters have rules and guidelines you follow and it’s common knowledge how you go about it.” Magnus’s phone vibrates in his pocket and he retrieves it. It’s a message from Rafe, reminding him to call Max. “I have to contact Max. I promised Rafe I would.” He glances at Amber briefly and nods his head, before striding away from her and down a familiar corridor. It once led to Alec’s office, the office of the head of the New York Institute. Now, it belongs to Rafe.

He slips through the door and taps Max’s name on his phone. It takes three rings before his son answers.

“Papa?” Max sounds happy, jubilant, and Magnus imagines the unbridled joy on his son’s face. Max’s smile has always lit up whatever room he was in and it was contagious. In the months after Alec’s death, the world was a much darker place without Max’s happiness in it.

“Hey, blueberry. How’s Europe?” Contentedness rolls over Magnus. He misses Max.

Max laughs. “It’s brilliant, Papa. Christian took me to this cute little café in Paris. It’s in a backstreet, and their soufflé is divine.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. You’ll have to remember the name of it for me for the next time I go.”

Magnus glances around the office. Nothing has changed since Alec died, because Rafe refuses to rearrange the room. The photos on the desk are of their family, when Rafe and Max were mere children. They are beautiful photos, a reminder of when times were simpler.

He picks up one of them and smiles. It’s a selfie that Magnus took early one morning. Alec and he had been cuddling in bed, when the kids came barrelling through the door and launched themselves at their parents. They became a bundle of cuddles and Magnus couldn’t resist taking a photo of the four of them. It’d been his favorite photo and still is.

“Papa?” Max sounds worried. “Is everything okay?”

Magnus sighs. There is no avoiding this. “Max, I need to tell you something.”

“Is something wrong? Is Rafe okay?”

“No, Rafe is fine. He’s fine.” Magnus licks his lips and stares at the photo again. “Something has happened though, something we can’t explain.”

“What is it? Do I need to come home?” It sounds like a chair scrapes over the phone line and Magnus imagines Max standing abruptly. “Christian, something has happened at home. We need to go.”

“Max, stop, I need you to listen,” Magnus chides, and it’s enough to make Max pause. “There was an incident at the institute. We don’t know how or why, but there was an earthquake there. However, it only happened at the institute, nowhere else.”

“Was anyone hurt?” The concern is evident in his voice and Magnus heard murmuring. Christian was clearly listening in on the conversation.

“No, but the lights flickered. When they came back on…” Magnus doesn’t know how to tell him, to change his son’s life like theirs had been changed over the last day, but he takes a deep breath and continues, “Your dad was lying on the ground, Max. Someone brought him back.”

Silence reigns on the other end of the line and for a moment, Magnus worries that Max has gone.

“What?” Max’s voice is small, confused. “What do you mean?”

“We don’t know how, but he’s back from the dead. He’s different, young, like he’s twenty years old again, but he’s back.” Magnus waits. He waits for his son to cry, or shout.

Max doesn’t do either. He whispers. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?” He sounds so heartbroken and betrayed, that Magnus feels his heart crack in his chest.

“You were on holidays, Max. We didn’t know what was happening and we didn’t want to—”

“But I had a right to know. I had a right to know…” His breathing quickens. “I’ll make a portal. We’ll be there in a minute.”

Magnus doesn’t argue because Max should be here, for himself and for Alec, and he feels terrible for not telling his son immediately. But it was for his own good, or at least that’s what Magnus tells himself.

 

~

_“You’re Alexander, yes?” She’s a short woman with dark hair and olive skin. He feels like he should know her, but he doesn’t. She’s a stranger._

_“Alec. No one but my husband calls me Alexander.” He blinks at her._

_“Oh yes, I know Magnus.” She smiles sweetly and sits beside him on the ground. They’re sitting in a field of some sort and his back is against a tree. The field is expanse and filled with flowers of different colors. He doesn’t know much about flowers, but he assumes they are different types too._

_“How do you know Magnus?” He peers around the field. They are the only two people in it. “Where am I?”_

_“You’re where you need to be.” She strokes his shoulder in comfort. “Magnus is my—”_

 

“Dad?”

A hand rests on his shoulder and Alec startles, glancing toward the owner of the hand. Rafe. He blinks and studies the room they’re in. It’s the autopsy room and they’d just finished studying the body. He remembers now, but he doesn’t know how or why he zoned out to the woman again. The visions were the same every time. He’d meet her in a field and she’d say things, like how she knows Magnus, but he never figures out how.

“No conclusive results on his death?” Alec asks, blinking. He tries to focus on the here and now.

The medic who studied Alec before—Was his name Bowland?—shakes his head. “We have narrowed it down to poison, but it’s unclear what type. We’ll need to run some further tests.”

“Maybe Pa could help,” Rafe says. He glances at the clock, and so does Alec. They’ve been in the room for half an hour and he wonders how the time flew by so quickly. “Let’s go see him.”

Rafe takes the vial of blood from the medic and they walk beside each other down a corridor. The institute hasn’t changed since he last remembered it. The beautiful architecture is still intact, the magical wards thrumming in the walls. The magic is familiar, comforting, because it’s Magnus’s.

“I’ve missed you,” Rafe whispers. They are alone and Rafe’s face falls in sad contemplation.

Alec grabs his arm, pulling him to a stop. They haven’t had time to talk, to see each other outside of Rafe finding Alec, and Alec hates that. Rafe is his son and it’s been ten years too long for Rafe, even if it feels like minutes to Alec. He drags him into a tight hug.

Rafe is only a little shorter than he is, but he still tucks his head against Alec’s chin. He holds Alec as securely as Alec is holding him and he knows he doesn’t imagine Rafe’s small exhaled sob. So, he just holds his son as though life depends on it.

He runs soothing touches down Rafe’s back and lets him cry. He lets Rafe mumble things against his chin, even if he doesn’t hear what he’s trying to say.

“I’m sorry, Rafa.”

Rafe’s arms tighten and Alec tries not to cringe. His son is strong, a lot stronger than he remembers. “I know, Dad, but it’s not your fault.”

“Max, stop!”

Magnus’s authoritative voice slices through their moment like a sharp seraph blade and Alec’s gaze snaps up to peer down the hallway, where Max is barrelling past Magnus, even as his pa attempts to stop him. Magnus doesn’t pursue him though, just stares at Alec with quiet apology as Max storms down the narrow passageway, determination painted across his handsome blue face.

Rafe tugs away from his hold, face soft but clear of tears as though he didn’t just have a breakdown. He steps aside just in time as Max stops to an abrupt halt in front of Alec. He doesn’t move, just stares, gaze scanning his dad’s face as though he’s looking for something—anything—to confirm it’s really him.

Alec smiles softly as he reaches out and cups Max’s cheek like he used to when Max was a teenager. It’d always comforted him before and now is no different. The tenseness in Max’s body eases and the forceful anger in his eyes diminishes, leaving a vulnerability there.

“If they’d told me earlier, I would have been here sooner,” Max says, leaning into the touch of Alec’s palm.

He’s older in age, but not in looks. Max looks exactly as he had when Alec last saw him. Still young with his soft, azure skin and vibrant blue eyes, a little darker than Alec’s own. His hair is a little longer, his eyes a little duller, but he is still the son that Alec left behind.

“It happened so quickly,” Alec reasons, stroking his son’s cheek. “Your pa and brother are still figuring out what to do.”

“They could have called me,” Max snaps as he throws a glare over his shoulder at Rafe. It dislodges Alec’s touch.

“Your brother and pa did the right thing. They told me what happened after I died, blueberry. They were worried about you.” Alec rests his hand on Max’s shoulder and smiles. “I was worried about you.”

“Max, we did what they thought was best,” Rafe argues gently. There is no hostility in his voice and Alec is glad for it. He’s always hated seeing his sons argue.

“Or maybe it’s what Amberlin thought was best.” Max’s words are sharp and jagged, an insult meant to emotionally wound. There’s no truth to his tone and Alec knows his son well enough to know he is lashing out because he is hurt.

Alec holds his hand up to Rafe as his eldest is about to respond. He doesn’t want them to fight, so he does what Max needs him to do. He pulls Max into his arms and presses the side of his head against his chest. Max is short compared to Alec and his head is at the perfect height for it. With his ear pressed against his dad, Alec knows Max can hear his heartbeat, the soft, rhythmic thumps more proof that he is here, and Max doesn’t need to be angry.

Max stills against him and then his arms wind around Alec’s body, pulling his dad into a hug. He doesn’t cry, but his breathing quickens and his hold is tight. Alec can feel the magic tingling at Max’s fingertips as they curl up in the back of his shirt. His magic has always been a little unstable when he’s upset, and Alec is used to the feeling of it. Max or his magic would never hurt him, he knows this, so he holds his son tighter.

“I’m back, blueberry. I swear, I’m not going anywhere.”

Max briefly trembles against him and he inhales loudly.

“Do I still smell the same?” Alec asks with a smile. He remembers back when Max is but a child.

 

 

~

_Max is sitting on Alec’s lap and their eyes are glued to the television. Alec rarely gets time to watch the mundane invention, but that afternoon, Max asks him to watch a children’s program with him. Alec can never say no to his son._

_“What is this?” Alec frowns at the yellow ‘teletubby’ as it wanders up a footpath on the T.V._

_“It’s the Teletubbies, Daddy. Don’t be silly.” A five-year-old Max giggles and he falls back against Alec._

_Alec doesn’t ask any more questions and just watches. It takes half an hour before the show finishes and he thanks the angel it’s finally done. By the time it’s finished, Max is curled up against him, his nose pressed against Alec’s cheek._

_“You smell, Daddy,” Max giggles quietly._

_“Do I?” Alec frowns as he takes a whiff under his free arm. He doesn’t think he smells too bad, even though he’d been running around the streets of New York all morning as he and Jace chased a Shax demon._

_“Yeah.”_

_“What do I smell like?” Alec rises with Max in his arms. Rafe is out at his grandma’s house, while Magnus is with a client, so it’s just the two of them until later, but Max is tired. Alec can see it in his son’s eyes and the way he yawns widely._

_“Home.”_

_Alec can’t ask him what that smells like because Max is already asleep in his arms. His breathing has evened out and his hold loosens, making Alec grip him tighter. And as he lays him in his bed and tucks the blanket over his youngest son, he stares at Max’s sweet face._

_“Love you, blueberry,” he says as he strokes his son’s cheek before he leaves the room._

_His mom brings Rafe home an hour later and Alec tucks him into bed too. Then finally, three hours later, after Alec has taken a shower and curled under his own blankets, Magnus joins him in their bed._

 

~

After that night, he still has never asked Max what he smells like because he understands the smell of home now. Magnus smells like home, and so does his kids. From that night though, Max smelled him regularly. It was peculiar, but became a thing that Alec grew used to. Max would press his face against Alec and inhale, sometimes muttering the word ‘home’ to himself. He did it less as he aged, but at times of stress, Max would hug Alec and still inhale his smell.

Alec reminds himself it’s been ten years since Max could do this. Ten years that he’s been without his dad, and as he inhales Alec’s scent, Alec’s grip on him tightens.

“You still smell like home,” Max whispers.

Alec runs a soothing hand down Max’s back and he glances over his head to see Magnus sidle closer. He smiles at his husband and Magnus smiles back. This is it. This is their family.

Finally, Max tugs away from Alec hesitantly, like he’s unsure if he should, as though Alec will disappear if he lets go. But Alec smiles reassuringly at him and Max releases his hold and steps back.

Magnus sighs and it draws the other men’s attention to him. “As much as this reunion is beautiful, perfect…” he pauses and smiles at his sons, then Alec. “We have a dead body that needs attending to.”

Alec’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Rafe and I examined the body and the examiner concluded that it was poison.” He gestures to the vial Rafe is holding. “We thought you could identify it, Magnus.”

He notices his sons and husband glance at each other briefly and he realizes there is something he’s missing, something he doesn’t understand. “What is it?”

Max grimaces. “Dad, there’s something you don’t know.”

Seeping, cold confusion slithers into his bones, alongside the anxiety that’s been there from the start, from the moment he opened his eyes in the institute. He trusts his family, his boys, but he’s missed out on so much that it feels surreal and terrifying all at once. But Alec is a Shadowhunter and he’s an expert at hiding his fear, so he just grips his hands behind his back and nods, urging them on.

“I can talk to the dead.”

Max says it so quietly, that it takes a moment for the words to register in Alec’s brain.

“Talk to the dead? What do you mean?” Alec throws a frown at Magnus, but his husband only responds with a sad smile.

His son hesitates, his lip quivering enough that he bites down on it to stop it. It’s another one of Max’s habits and Alec remembers it well. “If a body has been dead for less than a day, I can bring them back for anywhere between twenty seconds up to a minute. I can talk to them, ask them questions.”

His anxiety ramps up a notch and his heart clenches in his chest. For a moment, Alec doesn’t think he can breathe because every time he inhales, the air feels like a seraph blade piercing through his lungs. “How is this possible? You could never do that before.”

“It’s magic that manifested inside of me after you died, Dad. It just…sort came about. At first, I couldn’t control it because my emotions were volatile. I was dangerous, unstable.” Max glances at Rafe, and Rafe shudders. There’s story behind that comment and Alec wants to know more, has to know more, but he stays silent. He lets Max speak. “Then when I was more mentally stable, after Christian helped me, I realized, quite accidently, what I could do. The Shadowhunters ask me to talk to a recently dead body, to help figure out who killed them and why.”

Magnus steps closer, the heels of his fancy shoes clicking on the stone floor beneath their feet. He reaches out and lays his palm on Alec’s shoulder. “Sometimes warlocks are more in tune with certain magic. Mostly, the magic is a result of an emotional breakdown and it’s rare, but it happens. Death magic is also one of the rarer types of emotional based magic.”

Alec shakes his shoulders and dislodges Magnus’s hand. He tells himself it was an accident, that he’s not angry at his husband, but it’s a lie. He is angry at Magnus for not telling him. He’s angry at Magnus for allowing this to happen, which is stupid because logically, Alec knows the warlock couldn’t prevent it. But he takes a step back anyway and ignores the hurt look in Magnus’s eyes. He ignores the way his hand, the one that had been touching Alec's shoulder, drops at his side.

“And you let the institute use you?” Alec snaps, the anger coiling in the pit of his stomach like an angry snake, ready to strike.

Max’s blue eyes widen. “Dad…they don’t use me.”

“Do they pay you?” It comes out harsher than he means it to.

Max glances at Rafe, then back to Alec. He opens his mouth and shuts it again. It’s enough to tell Alec the answer to his question.

“Dad, Max is helping us out,” Rafe insists.

“But you’re not paying him?” He has no control over his anger, the way his blood simmers in his veins. “I made it a rule that every Downworlder working for the institute must be paid an adequate payment. Why aren’t you following my rules?” He snaps this at Rafe, who appears taken aback.

Magnus shakes his head, the corner of his lips twisting. “Alexander, they’re brothers. Max has been helping—”

“Max shouldn’t be in this position,” Alec interrupts sharply. “He shouldn’t be able to talk to the dead! If you’d just taken care of him better, Magnus.”

He says it so sharply, so loudly, that the other three falls into silence. They’re stunned, dazed by the sudden shift in emotion and temperature in the room. It feels like it’s dropped in degrees and the lights flicker above them.

Magnus’s chest is rising and falling in quick movements, his jaw tense as he gazes at Alec in betrayal. And Alec doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t know where the anger came from, but it’s gone now, and he feels empty, chilled. He shudders and takes a deep breath.

“Magnus…”

Magnus throws up a hand and Alec flinches. He doesn’t know why, but he does, and Magnus’s posture stiffens. His mouth falls open and his eyebrows rise. He wasn’t going to use magic on him, Alec knows that, because Magnus has never used magic to hurt him. Magnus has only raised his hand to gesture for Alec to stop.

“Dad?” Max licks his lips apprehensively. “Maybe we should take you back to the medical bay? Maybe you’re not—”

“I’m fine,” Alec whispers. He rolls his shoulders and straightens his back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.” He glances at Magnus, pushing every ounce of apology into his gaze. “I’m sorry, love.”

Magnus understands, he always understands, and as he smiles tenderly at Alec in acceptance, Alec can still see the betrayal in his russet eyes, the hurt, and Alec’s heart rips at the sight of it.

When Magnus reaches for him again, Alec pretends he doesn’t see the hand. He turns his back on his husband, because he doesn’t deserve the forgiveness or Magnus’s touch.

“Come on, let’s go see this body with Max.”

Alec hears Magnus’s loud exhale, but he pushes forward, back toward the way he and Rafe came from. He hears the footsteps behind him, so he knows his sons and husband follows.

Once they reach the room, Max sidles up beside the body.

The man on the table doesn’t look old, around thirty at the oldest, but he’s a vampire and he could have been centuries old for all they knew. He was handsome, in an unconventional way, with the slight crook of his nose and sharp jaw. But then there was his chest where Alec’s name is carved into his skin like a branding. It makes Alec’s stomach clench in sickness. He hates that this man had to die for him.

Max closes his eyes and hovers his hands above the man’s chest. He licks his lips, shifts his feet slightly apart, and takes a deep breath. Magic begins to trickle out of his hands, a translucent blue smoke that swirls through the air and down toward the man’s chest.

Alec takes a moment to glance at Magnus, to stare at his husband and access the damage he’s done, but he’s surprised to see Magnus already staring at him. Magnus’s deep eyes are clouded with thought, his gaze distant, but not distant enough that he doesn’t notice Alec looking at him. He cocks his head at Alec, asks him through his gaze if he’s okay.

Alec knew he should nod, should tell Magnus that he was fine, but he wasn’t, and Magnus has always seen through his lies. He always knew when Alec needed him. At that moment, Alec is a tangle of emotions, his body an incubator to an anger that didn’t feel like his own. So he shakes his head and drops his gaze to Magnus’s neck. He watches the way Magnus’s throat works, the apple in his throat bouncing, and when Alec returns his gaze to his husband’s face, he sees promise there. We’ll work it out, love, it said. Angel, how Alec hoped they could.

A gurgled gasp draws Alec’s attention back to the dead man on the table, except he’s not very dead at that moment. It sounds like he’s choking on water, but as he starts to cough, blood splutters out of his mouth and onto his naked chest.

Max’s eyes snap open and he grabs the vampire’s chin, turns it toward him. “Can you hear me?”

The vampire gurgles some more and a splatter of red liquid hits Max on the cheek, but Alec notes that he ignores it.

“Can you hear me?” Max repeats, more firmly this time.

The vampire nods, his chest heaving as he attempts to sit up. He’s stopped when Max lays a hand on his chest.

“I’m dead,” the vampire wails around another splutter of blood that trickles out from between his lips.

“Yes, you are,” Max says, confidence melding in his voice. “And you need to help us find who killed you. Can you help us?”

The vampire wails again, and it sounds like a mournful cry from a wolf. Alec feels his heart clench because he understands this man, understands how he feels.

“Can you tell us who killed you?” Max tries, desperation now filling his face. It reminds Alec that they don’t have much time.

He steps forward, into the sight line of the vampire, and raises himself to sit on the table beside the other man. He lies a hand on the vampire’s arm and stares down at him in sympathy. “What’s your name?”

The vampire notices him, bloodshot eyes wide. “I know…I know who you are,” the man stutters.

“I’m Alec.” He smiles gently. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Reuben.”

Rafe is standing behind the Reuben’s head and he taps his watch at Alec. They’re running out of time.

“Reuben, what’s your last name?”

“Constantinou.”

“Hi, Reuben.” Alec grips the vampires face between his hands. “I need you tell me who killed you, Reuben.”

Reuben shudders, his body convulsing.

“I’m losing him,” Max shouts from beside the table. Magic is still pouring from his hands, but his eyes are closed again and his shoulders are shaking. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Reuben!” Alec holds Reuben’s face, makes him look at Alec. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” he whines. “But they know you. They know you. Said—" More tremors break out from his limbs. “said to tell you they send their regards.” Then he shudders one more time, blood gushing from every hole in his face before he stills and his eyes slide close. He’s gone.

Alec is still holding his face and as Reuben goes limp in his hands, his stomach lurches in anguish. He doesn’t know this man, this vampire, but Reuben died because of him, and the thought is shocking and chilling.

He drops Reuben’s head and slides off the table, ignoring his sons as he strides from the room in quick, steady paces. He hears the click of shoes behind him, knows Magnus is following, and he tries to move faster. But Magnus won’t let him go, won’t let him do it alone, he never does.

When Alec finally reaches a hallway of solitude, away from the curious gazes of Shadowhunters, and falls to the ground with an anguished scream, Magnus is there right beside him, encircling his shoulders and dragging him against his warm chest. And Alec cries and yells because fuck this. Fuck this world and fuck whoever did this. He’d had enough people die for him in his life, he didn’t want any more to.

He lets hot tears slide down his cheeks as his chest heaves in erratic inhales and exhales. His shoulders quiver and his heart clenches because he can see Reuben’s eyes, bloodshot and scared, as they stared up at him. They begged him for help, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t help Reuben even if he wanted to.

“It’s okay, Alexander. I have you.”

But did he? Did Magnus really have Alec or were they part of a bigger game? Alec shudders against his husband and tangles his fingers in the front of Magnus’s shirt. He fists the material and hears threads rip beneath the pressure.

“I did this, Magnus. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

“No, Alec. It’s not your fault.” Magnus’s voice is reassuring and strong, and it could always comfort Alec. But not today, not when he’d seen this dead man stare at him with such terror.

“He died because someone wants me.” The tears descending his cheeks feel hot, like there were leaving a trail of burnt skin behind. His jaw clenches. “Someone killed him because they were playing a game with me.”

Magnus soothes a hand over his back and drags him as close as they can get without becoming one person. “We’ll find them, Alexander. We’ll find whoever did this.”

Alec tilts his head and buries his face in Magnus’s neck. He smells the familiar scent of Magnus’s musk and sighs against the warm skin. “I’m going to find them and I’m going to hurt them, Magnus. I’m going to make them pay.”

Magnus swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing near Alec’s lips. “We both are, my love. Wherever you go, I go too.”

Through the heartache and tears, Alec smiles. He smiles because whoever did this will get what’s coming to them. He and Magnus will make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are ♥ and joy and inspiration! :D


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm sorry. I will keep apologizing. And I won't promise when the next chapter will be out because I never get it out when I want to! But I will try for ASAP. I promise. You WILL see the end of this story. And I WILL update when I can. I might aim for shorter chapters, so they come out quicker for you. Or would you prefer a longer wait with longer chapters? Let me know ♥
> 
> Beware! Sex ahead ;)

Magnus leaves him shortly after. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to, but he’s still the High Warlock of Brooklyn and he has matters to attend to. The vampire’s death affects everyone, including the warlocks. So, Alec just smiles, caresses Magnus’s cheek, and persuades him to go.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, but Magnus still hesitates. “I’m a Shadowhunter, Magnus.”

He isn’t anymore, not really, but he pushes that thought aside so he can kiss his husband on the lips and send him away. When he’s alone, he leans against the wall and slides down it until his ass is seated on the ground, his knee bent, and his arm wrapped around it. He stares at the opposite wall, at the beautiful architecture that is the institute. Then, he slides his eyes closed and tilts his head back, just breathing. 

Someone enters the hallway, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He knows who it is without needing to look. He can feel his son’s presence.

“Can I sit here?”

Alec’s lips curve into a soft smile. “Sure.” He finally looks at him. “Listen, Max, I’m sorry.”

His warlock son shakes his head and smiles sadly as he sits beside Alec. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, Dad. It’ll never be your fault.”

Alec doesn’t know how to respond to that because it is partly his fault. It was his death that caused this, that has made his son—his family—suffer. So they sit in silence until it’s unbearable and Alec wants to say something, anything, to break it.

“Where’s this vampire I keep hearing about?” It’s still hard to believe that his baby boy has a boyfriend. A vampire boyfriend at that.

“He’s skulking around the institute somewhere.” Max’s face softens, his eyes staring off into the distance. There’s something about that silly, loving grin on his face that makes Alec’s heart ache. He missed this and it hurts to know he wasn’t there for his son, to give him advice on what it’s like to be completely lovesick. He’d always imagined sitting Max and Rafe down and telling them about the moment he fell in love with their papa, how it felt to be completely and utterly disarmed by the eccentric, charismatic warlock. But that never happened, and he feels like he’s missed out on another part of their life.

“Do I get to meet him?” Because Alec wants to meet the man who saved his son.

“Of course. He’d love that.” Max blinks, as though he’s bringing himself back to the present, and cocks his head toward Alec. “Dad, I know it’s hard for you to understand, and I can’t even comprehend how you must be feeling, but I need to tell you some things.”

Alec’s pulse races. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear any more truths. He’s tired—no, he’s exhausted right now—and he can only handle so much. “Max—”

“Dad, please.” Max grabs his hand, squeezes it. “When you died, I was lost. You were—are—my best friend, and your death affected me in ways no one could have foreseen. I lived in a fog of grief for most of those months, and even I couldn’t remember what I was doing in that time. For the first time in my life, my own brother was terrified of me. He was terrified of what I was capable of and Amber…”

“What did she do?” He realizes at this moment that he’s defensive, he always is when anyone mentions her name. He doesn’t know what he has against her, but he can’t stop his reaction to her, not when she fought hard to keep him away from Magnus when he woke. He wants to like her, but he can’t just yet.

“She’s not a bad person, Dad. She joined the institute a month after your death and she saw me as a threat. She had every right to. Uncle Jace was the head by then and she demanded I be imprisoned. My magic was unstable, I was unstable, and I was on the verge hurting people.” Max sounds wrecked, his voice hoarse and his bottom lip trembling. And Alec’s heart aches for him. He reaches for Max and drags him closer, and Max fists his shirt. He buries his face into Alec’s chest like he did when he was a kid. “Pa did everything he could. He tried so hard, but even he couldn’t stop me in my descent into turmoil. Papa was dealing with his own grief, he was in agony, but he hid it so he could help us get through ours.”

Alec winces and holds Max tighter against him. “I don’t blame your papa. I know he tried his hardest. I’ve just been…”

“I understand.” Max cuts in for him. “You have your own pain to deal with.”

Alec nods. It’s a whirlwind of thoughts and memories in his head, a jumbled mess that he can’t make sense of. No one can understand, not unless they were in his position. “It feels like seconds to me. I don’t remember anything of those ten years.”

“I know.” Max finally tugs away and Alec lets him go. He has to remind himself that Max is an adult now and he doesn’t need his daddy like he used to. “We’ll find whoever did this.”

Alec hesitates. “I feel like there’s more than one player in this game, Max.” He runs a hand through his hair, drags his nails against his scalp. It hurts, but it feels good, like a reminder that he’s alive. “The one who brought me back and the others who want to put me back in the ground.”

Max grimaces. “What do you mean by that?”

Alec glances around the hallway. There’s no one but them, but he still worries. “The ones who killed the vampire—Reuben—they want me dead.”

“How do you know this?” Max’s jaw tightens and his hands curl into fists. Red magic sparks from his fingers, but he has good control of it.

“I can feel it in my bones.” Alec shudders, a coldness seeping through his skin. “There’s something bigger going on.”

“We won’t let anything happen to you, Dad.”

Alec can’t help but laugh. It’s funny to see his son, his baby boy, so willing to protect him like a real warrior. It’s funny, yet dissimilating.

“Dad?” Max sounds worried and he reaches out, touches Alec gently on the shoulder.

“Sorry,” Alec says, shortly. He shrugs Max’s hand away and rises, ignoring the creaks in his knees. Even though his body is young again, he still feels his age. He’s tired, exhausted really, and he can _feel_ it in everything he does since he woke up. 

Max follows him into a standing position, his cerulean eyes watching carefully. Alec hates that he has him worried, so he pats him on the shoulder and smiles reassuringly. It doesn’t work.

Another set of footsteps echo through the hallway, but it’s light, almost melodic. The person is purposely trying to be loud so they can hear them though, because even though the footsteps are soft, they aren’t natural steps. It’s weird, but when Alec tilts his head to see who’s coming, he quickly works out why. It’s a vampire, making himself known.

“Christian,” Max utters, his breath hitching at his boyfriend’s name.

The vampire’s lips curve and he flashes his teeth at Max in a smile. He clearly only has eyes for his partner. And while he stares with open adoration at Max, Alec takes the chance to study the man before him. He’s tall, almost tall as Alec himself, but sturdy with sinewy muscles. He has short, dark hair cropped close to his head and while his skin is palish due to his vampirism, it’s clear it was once an olive tone due to some sort of Latino heritage. He’s clean-shaven and sharply dressed with well-designed trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, not that Alec knows much about clothes. Christian reminds Alec of a mixture of Rafe and Magnus, maybe a bit of Raphael too.

The vampire kisses Max, a short, quick peck on the lips before he spins toward Alec, his hand shoved out. “You must be the great Alec Lightwood.”

Alec quirks an eyebrow and forces down an amused snort. A grin escapes him though. “The great Alec Lightwood? Why do I feel like a Mundane magician?”

If Christian could blush, Alec suspects he might have. Either way, he looks embarrassed enough that he clears his throat and looks away. Max, however, chuckles.

“Dad,” Max chides.

Alec reaches for Christian’s hand, grasping it just as the vampire looks at him in surprise. He’s obviously forgotten that his hand is still outstretched toward Alec, but Alec shakes it anyway.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Christian. I’ve heard nothing but praise about you.”

Christian bows his head slightly, and grins. “And you, Sir. Max adores you.”

Alec thinks it’s weird to have someone calling him ‘sir’. It’s weird because he’s never really been a sir, but he sees the way people look at him now. To them, he is a sir. To them, it’s like he’s a hero, and that’s even weirder.

“Alec. My name is Alec.”

Christian swallows deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and he nods. “Alec.”

“Thank you. For saving my son.” They’re still shaking hands and neither pull away because right then, it’s about respect. Christian clearly respects him because he’s his boyfriend’s father, and Alec respects Christian because this man saved Max’s life when he couldn’t do it himself.

“Your son saved me in return.”

There’s a story there, Alec can sense it, but he doesn’t question it. If, or when, they decide to tell that story, he’ll be there to listen. Instead, he just nods and releases Christian’s hand.

“I should go find Magnus.” He smiles at Max and pats him on the cheek. “Look after my boy for me.”

Alec doesn’t realize how final it sounds until Max’s face drops, and only then does he realize that he made it sound like he wouldn’t be able to. He thinks about apologizing, but decides against it because at any point, it can be the end for him again. If he’s right, and there’s people coming after him, he needs to be ready this time. Ready for his family to deal with his death.

He steps around Max and Christian and walks away, down the corridor and toward where he knows Magnus will be.

♥♠♥

He’s walking down one of the many corridors when his world spins. He clasps a hand against the wall and tries to steady himself, but his chest tightens and he’s dragged out of the present and into another plane of existence.

_He’s in a field, the same one as before, but he’s not sitting down. Rather, he’s standing. He’s staring toward a sunset, but there’s no heat coming from it. If anything, he feels cold and alone. So when a hand touches his shoulder, he jumps and spins, his Shadowhunter training taking effect._

_The lady from before holds up her open palms toward him, her eyes dancing in amusement. “I’m not going to hurt you.”_

_“No, you’re not, but someone is trying to.” He feels more alive this time, with more control over what he can say and what he can’t. It drives him forward. “Who are you?”_

_“Haven’t you figured that out yet?” She grazes the back of her knuckles along his jaw. “I’m your ally, Alexander.”_

_“Alec.”_

_She smiles, her eyes crinkling. “How is Magnus? Is he happy you’re home?”_

_This isn’t a memory this time, it’s happening for real. Alec can feel the realness in every pore in his skin. “It’s a shock to everyone.” He wills his body to relax from his fighting stance. “Who are you?”_

_“And your sons? How do they fair?”_

_Alec shakes his head. He knows a diversion when he sees one and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it at all. “Who are you?” He says again, more forcefully. He won’t let her change the topic._

_She blinks at him, slowly, but her smile stays on her face. “I’m his mother.”_

_“What?” Alec rears back in surprise._

_“His mother. Magnus’s.” She clasps her hands together in front of her. “Can’t you see the resemblance?”_

_He can, now that he really looks at her, but it doesn’t feel right. There’s something very wrong here and he can’t put his finger on it. Magnus has never spoken much about his mother, other than her taking her own life, but it feels wrong. She feels wrong._

_Alec takes a step forward, opens his mouth to say something more, but he doesn’t know what because he collapses in-between the blades of grass. His world is spinning, and he’s being pulled and yanked from one side to the other as he’s once again ripped from one existence to the other._

“Alexander?”

He knows the soft touch of his husband, so when he’s finally dragged back to reality, he’s calm.

He’s lying on the ground, he realizes, with Magnus and someone else hovering over him. Magnus’s palm is cupping his cheek and Alec leans into the warmth. He blinks, collecting his bearings enough that he finally recognizes the other person.

He smiles in greeting. “Hey, Lily.”

Magnus frowns at him incredulously. “Alexander, we found you unconscious on the floor and all you have to say is ‘hey, Lily’?”

Alec shrugs as he sits up with Magnus’s comforting hold on his arm. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?” Magnus’s grip tightens. “You’re not fine. I don’t think you heard me. You were unconscious.”

“I…” He doesn’t know what to say, or how to explain it. “I’m just tired.”

Magnus doesn’t believe him. He purses his lips, sets them in a fine line, and helps Alec stand.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Lightwood.” Lily folds her arms over her chest, her eyes raking over his body. “A few less scars on you.”

Alec laughs. “Just a few less.”

They stand in silence, just staring at each other, and finally, it’s Lily that moves first. She lurches forward, and he catches her in a hug. He doesn’t kiss her cheek, because she’d punch him for that, but he presses against her tightly and squeezes her. It’s a brief hug, but Lily doesn’t do affection, so when she tugs away, Alec lets her go.

“Are you here about Reuben? We’ll need to discuss a few things…” He trails off when he sees Magnus grimace. “What’s going on?”

Lily frowns at Magnus, then Alec. “I’ve already been informed on what happened and we’ve made arrangements between the Downworld council and the Shadowhunters.”

“What are you talking about?” Ice travels through Alec’s veins. It feels a lot like fury. “Why wasn’t I there? Why wasn’t I informed of this meeting?” He turns his hard gaze on Magnus.

Magnus stands tall, but still reaches for Alec. Alec shrugs away from the touch.

“Magnus?”

“Rafe and I believe that it would be beneficial for your health, that you stay away from this investigation, Alexander.”

“You and Rafe believe…” Alec’s muscles stiffen and the fury explodes in the pit of his stomach. He’s never felt betrayal and anger like this before. Magnus _knows_ how important this is to him. “How could you do this to me?”

Magnus’s shoulders slump, and his face gives way to agony. “Alexander, these people want to kill you. They want to take you away from us again. We have to keep you safe.”

“Keep me safe?” He shakes from the chill of his anger and stares at Magnus, his _husband_ , with pure, raw betrayal. “You forget that I’m a Shadowhunter, Magnus.”

“But you’re not though, are you?” Lily stares at him with a strong, knowing gaze. “Not anymore.”

He pins a glare on her and takes a step back, away from two people he trusted. “I may have died, but I’m still a Shadowhunter.” It was who he was, and Magnus knew that. He knew how much it meant to him. And yet, here he was, trying to take it away.

“Alexander, listen to me.” Magnus takes a step forward, but he’s met with Alec taking another back. “I love you, heart and soul, and I won’t lose you again. You’re too close to this. You’re too angry and you can’t think straight. I won’t let anything happen to you, I won’t lose you again.”

“But you have, haven’t you?” It comes out of his mouth automatically and even if he could stop it, he probably wouldn’t. He’s too angry, too raw, and he has nothing to filter the fury.

“What?” Magnus sounds broken, his voice hoarse from sorrow. He drops the hand that was reaching for Alec.

“You have lost me. And by taking this away from me, you’re losing me again.” Alec’s pulse is racing, and his fists clench against his thighs. He spins on his heel, and ignores Magnus calling his name as he storms away. He needs to get out—away—from them before he can say anymore that he’ll regret.

♥♠♥

The punching bag feels nice under his fists, a heavy weight that numbs the fire in his veins. It puts a new feeling inside of him, an adrenaline that fuels his persistence, his need to release however he can. Punch after punch, his fist stings harder and it drives him on. He doesn’t notice the blood on the bag until he hears a sharp intake of breath behind him. Then, it’s when he stops, stills, that he notices the deep crimson liquid contrasting against the black bag.

“Alexander, you’re hurting yourself.” Magnus’ voice usually lulls him, calms him, but not this time. It makes him stiffen, the renewed anger simmering below his skin.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Magnus.” He doesn’t turn around to face his husband, just stares at the punching bag and the blood that stains it.

He tenses when he feels Magnus’s hands on his shoulders, but stays still. He doesn’t shrug them off because he’s _tired_. He’s so damn tired.

Magnus’s hands begin working his shoulders and as much as he wants to stay tense—angry—the tension slowly seeps from his body under the knowledgeable hands. Magnus knows how to work him because he’s done it numerous times before, and it feels good.

“Magnus,” Alec groans, his head tilting back.

Magnus presses his chest against Alec’s back as he keeps working his shoulders, and leans forward, his lips caressing Alec’s cheek. Alec turns his head instinctively and then Magnus is devouring his mouth with enough fire to light up the sun.

As much as Alec wants to push him away, he also doesn’t want to, and he gives into the pure ecstasy that was his husband. He wants for so much that it hurts. He wants Magnus inside of him, claiming him, but he also wants to throw Magnus on the floor and fuck him into oblivion. He wants, wants, wants, and it physically and emotionally hurts.

Magnus is panting into his mouth as one of his hands wraps itself around Alec’s neck, squeezing hard enough to make Alec gasp. He can feel his pulse thumping in his neck and he knows Magnus can feel it under his hand also.

“Tell me what you need,” Magnus whispers against Alec’s lips. The firmness of his need presses tighter against Alec’s ass, a reminder what he craves. Because no matter how angry at Magnus he is, he’ll always crave him. He’ll always need him. “Do you want to fuck me, Alexander? Work me open until I yell your name?”

Alec groans because yes, he’d fucking love that.

“Or do you want me to shove you on your hands and knees, fuck you until you have rug burns on your skin?” It sounds dirty, but it always sounds dirty coming from Magnus. He’s so proper, so dignified, that the word _fuck_ sounds dirty coming from his mouth. No matter how many times Alec hears it, it still makes him rock hard.

“Yess,” Alec hisses, but he doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to. He just needs to badly.

Magnus’s hold on his neck tightens and cuts off his air briefly, and it only makes his cock jerk in his pants. This is what he needs, he needs Magnus’s control, his dominance. He needs Magnus to take him into his hand and do what he wants with him.

And Magnus does, quite literally. He releases his neck and opens the fly of Alec’s pants and pulls him out, wraps a warm hand around the width of his cock and tugs. At that moment, he doesn’t even care that he’s in the training room, that anyone can walk in on them, because he’s focused on Magnus—the smell of him, the feel of him, the very presence of him makes Alec’s body so aware that his nerves are buzzing erratically with need.

He strokes along Alec’s length roughly, precum already leaking from the tip of his cock. It’s hard to believe that he’s so close to the edge and Magnus has barely touched him. His balls are tight against his body and he resists the urge to push himself on his tiptoes, as though that might get him closer to Magnus.

“Tell me what you want, Alexander.” Magnus’s breath is hot against his ear and his teeth nibble the lobe, tugging gently. “Tell me.”

Alec is at a loss for words. He wants too much and he can’t begin to think of how to put it into words. But he doesn’t need to because Magnus knows what he needs. So he’s not surprised when Magnus’s swipes his leg underneath Alec, knocking his own legs out from under him. Alec falls forward, catches himself so he lands on his hands and knees. 

He cocks his head and grins wickedly at Magnus, who returns the look. Then Magnus is on him and his chest is pressed against Alec’s back again and they’re kissing like teenagers, sloppily and full of need. Magnus’s groans vibrate into his mouth and he devours them, feeds off them, and when he slips his eyes open, he meets his husband’s cat eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” Alec moans against his lips. He cups Magnus’s jaw, strokes his cheek. “So beautiful.”

Magnus blinks lazily at him and smiles. “I love you, Alexander.”

“I love you too.” He’s in a haze of desire and nothing can penetrate it, not even the anger that once fired his body into action. The craving for Magnus is too strong, too vibrant, and it burns brighter than any anger. He’s too busy staring at his husband, mapping his face with his eyes, that he doesn’t notice Magnus is undoing Alec’s pants until he feels them bunched around his knees and Magnus’s cool fingers stroking his bare ass. 

“Tell me what you want,” Magnus repeats, but it’s softer this time, loving.

Alec answers this time. “You. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

Magnus’ face breaks into relief, his features softening. Alec moves with Magnus, as though they are one. Their bodies melded, a familiar dance between husbands who knew each other well. Magnus is inside of him, filling him in ways no other man can. He’s heavy against Alec’s back and a force behind thrusts. And with each drive of his cock, Alec wants more of him. More of his soul, more of his smell. He just wants more of Magnus.

His hands press flat against the rug beneath him, his knees firm, but that doesn’t stop him driving forward with the strength of Magnus’s thrusts. And he revels in the feel, and the sound, and the smell. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, and with every drive forward, Magnus’s balls slap against Alec, and it feels phenomenal. It makes him feel real.

He’s so close to the edge and his groans and pleas drive Magnus harder and faster, until he can’t take it anymore. He grabs Magnus’s arm, makes him still, as he curls the arm around his chest and just holds it there. He clasps Magnus’s hand against his racing heart so they can both feel it, then he stiffens and moans as his cock jerks in his hand, lines of cum splattering on the mat below him.

Magnus bites down on his neck, grunts with the flesh in his mouth, as he cums as well. His sperm fills Alec until it’s seeping out of him and only once Magnus’s body has stopped spasming, does the warlock release Alec’s neck from his teeth. They both moan when he pulls his cock out and Magnus pulls Alec against him, collapsing on the ground beside Alec’s quickly cooling cum.

Even though Magnus isn’t inside of him anymore, the burn satisfies him.

“Alexander.” Magnus strokes his arm. 

Alec stays quiet, just listens.

“We were worried about you. We can’t lose you again.”

Alec heaves a sigh and closes his eyes. He’s too content to be angry. Magnus gave him exactly what he needed. “I understand that you’re afraid of losing me again, Magnus, but I’m a Shadowhunter, even though I was dead for ten years. It’s in my blood.” He opens his eyes and shuffles to his side, so he can stare at his husband. He brushes his knuckles over Magnus’s cheek. “You can’t keep me away from this.”

“I know.” Magnus blinks slowly at him, his cat eyes still unglamored. His eyes are as beautiful as the rest of him and Alec loves seeing them because this was the real Magnus. His Magnus. “But I can try keep you safe.”

Alec shakes his head. “No, Magnus, you can’t. Please stop treating me like I’m made of glass. I’ve weathered worse than this, you and I both know it. You said we’d both make them pay, together. Don’t leave me out of this.”

Magnus hesitates, then nods carefully. He presses a light kiss on Alec’s lips. “Promise me that wherever you go, I go too. I will protect you with my life, Alexander.”

Alec smiles. “I love you too.”


End file.
